French’* International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and 
States) Edi'ion of the Works of the Best Authors 


PS 3537 

.H9762 

H7 

1918 

No. 359 

Copy 1 

i Honor of the 

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A 

Stars and Stripes 

| A PATRIOTIC PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 

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A 

BY "r 

MARION SHORT 

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Copyright, 1018, By Samuel French. 

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs arc hereby warned 
that “ THE HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES,” 
being fully protected under the copyright laws of the 
United States, is subject to royalty, and anyone pre¬ 
senting the play without the consent of the author or 
his authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by 
law provided. Applications for the acting rights must 
be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38tli Street, 
New York. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 

New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

2&-80 WEST 38th Street 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 










I he Honor of the 
Stars and Stripes 

A PATRIOTIC PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 


BY 

MARION SHORT 

♦» 


Copyright, 1918, by Samuel French. 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned 
that “ THE HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES,” 
being fully protected under the copyright laws of the 
United States, is subject to royalty, and anyone pre¬ 
senting the play without the consent of the author or 
his authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by 
law provided. Applications for the acting rights must 
be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, 
New York. 


New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 West 38th STREET 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 



P5 3537, 
M^ 7 6ZH7 
■ \°\\Z 

HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


CAST OF CHARACTERS 


Otto Bergenfeld . A middle-aged German 

of good family. Pro- ’ : 
prictor of a jewelry 
store 

Lena Bergenfeld . Otto's daughter, horn in 

America of an American 
mother. About eighteen 
years of age 

Gretchen Grupe . Lena's elder sister, married 

to a French-Alsatian 

Hoadley Walters . A young professor in 

Redfield Academy 

Frank OlCUTT . A. true-blue American and a 

senior in Redfield Academy 

Stephen Buss . Nicknamed “Blunderbuss. 

A senior 

Michael O’Shea . Janitor of Redfield 

Academy 

Vivian Marlowe . Student 

Alberta Morrts . Student 

Laura Dean . Student 

Betty Johnson . Student 

Bernice Olcutt . Student, and Frank's 

younger sister 

Mrs. Scrovins . A “general helper", approach¬ 

ing middle-age and in reduced 
circumstances 

Matilda Scrovins . Eleven-year-old daughter 

„ of Mrs. Scrovins 


•iEP 26 1918 


©CI.D 5 0.4.0 f 

/M \ 



















DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTERS 


Otto Bergenfeld. A dignified German of the 
higher class. He speaks with only a slight accent 
and in low, well-modulated tones. Carries himself 
in military fashion bespeaking his early training as 
a soldier. He is a man of sincere convictions and 
with a deep love for family and country. 

Lena Bergenfeld. A grave, sweet girl, speaking 
without a trace of the accent that still clings to 
^ her father. She is deep-hearted and loyal by nature. 
^ with a passionate dislike of deception and sham. 

^ Gretchen Grupe. A young woman of twenty- 
five or six. Her Madonna face shows signs of the 
intense suffering through which she has passed. 
She is of a deeply emotional nature. Dresses 
plainly in black. 

Hoadley Walters. A white-livered specimen 
of humanity with shifty eyes. He has but one wish 
in life—to amass a fortune. Patriotism means 
nothing to him, and he would sell his soul or his 
country for money. 

Frank Olcutt. A slim-built, clean-cut young 
American, genial and likable, but with a sturdy 
manhood that makes him a natural leader among 
his fellows. 

Stephen Buss. 14 Blunderbuss ”. A big, good- 
humored young man cursed with an intense bodily 
awkwardness. He wants to please everybody and 
is untiring in his efforts to do so no matter how 
many mistakes he may make. 

Michael O’Shea. A peppery Irishman to whom 

3 




4 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

the pupils of Redfield Academy are a sort of per¬ 
petual affliction. His hair is fiery red, He always 
carries a pipe and at the close of every sentence 
returns it to his mouth, if only to hold it for a sec¬ 
ond. Speaks with only a slight brogue. 

Vivian Marlowe. A slim, fashionable young 
girl with a penchant for big hats and high-heeled 
shoes, and whose every sentence is charged with 
gushing enthusiasm. 

Alberta Morris. A fat girl, slow of motion, and 
with a lazy drawl to correspond. 

Laura Dean. A tall, handsome girl whose jeal¬ 
ousy makes her a trifle vixenish at times. 

Betty Johnson. A studious pupil who wears 
glasses and is disposed to take life very seriously. 

Bernice Olcutt. A fine, healthy, athletic Am¬ 
erican girl who scorns the sentimentality of lovers 
until she' herself becomes a victim of the tender 
passion. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Who is always recalling the 
days when her husband was living and she was 
“ beholden to no one.” She i-s slightly under middle 
age, old fashioned in dress and coififure, and her 
eyebrows are raised in an expression of perpetual 
astonishment at the general mismanagement of the 
afifairs of the universe. She is known as a “ con¬ 
tinuous talker ”. 

Matilda Scrovins. A skinny child who wears 
her hair drawn back tightly from her forehead and 
hanging in two tight braids down her back. She 
chews gum habitually, and acts as a sort of interpre¬ 
ter of her mother’s vague remarks. Her large eyes 
are generally rolled sideways and fixed upon the 
countenance of her maternal relative. 


Honor Of The Stars And Stripes 


ACT I 

Scene : A class-room in Redfield Academy. Door 
c. opens into corridor. When door is open 
a hall-backing is disclosed. Door r. opens into 
girl's dressing-room. Window at l. Near 
window electric punch-buttons in wall. Desk 
and chair at u A chair or two at r. Map 
of U. S. on wall, or other furnishings to sug¬ 
gest class-room atmosphere. A bunting decora¬ 
tion stretches across the wall at back. 

Time: Late afternoon. 

Discovered: Buss, standing on a short step-ladder 
at l. nailing up the final festoon of the bunt¬ 
ing decoration. Olcutt sits at desk, making 
notes. 

Buss. ( Sings as he works) “ I’m coming, yes 
coming, my head is bending low ”. ( Stops suddenly 

with an exclamation of pain) Lord, I hit my fin¬ 
ger! Somebody else ought to have done these 
decorations. I’m property man for f he Red Cross 
tableaux, and that’s enough of a job for one fellow 
to tackle. Wow ! ( Nurses finger) 

Olcutt. Never mind, Blunderbuss. What’s a 
finger more or less? And that careless effect does 
you proud. What I’m wondering is how long it’s 
going to take those girls to dress for rehearsal. 

5 



6 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


They’ve spent two hours powdering their noses 
now. 


(Bernice and Betty enter from p.) 

Bernice. ( Addresses Olcutt) For goodness 
sakes, brother, why don’t you call the rehearsal? 

Olcutt. Waiting for you. 

Bernice. Well, we’ve been waiting for you. 

Betty. Yes, indeed! We’ve been dressed hours 
and hours, Mr. Olcutt. 

(Buss in descending from the ladder falls off it 
with a crash.) 

Bernice. Fall off the ladder! That’s just like 
you, Blunderbuss. 

Buss. It’s not my fault if I’m blundering, is it? 
I can’t help it. 

Bernice. Oh, I suppose your feet are so heavy 
they do sort of weigh you down. 

Buss. What are you in the tableaux, Bernice? 
A beggar woman? 

Bernice. You know perfectly well I’m Eliza 
in Uncle Tom's Cabin, crossing the ice. 

Buss. Well, you needn’t freeze a fellow like that 
if you are crossing the ice. 

Olcutt. But I thought Eliza was a colored 
woman, Sis. 

Bernice. I’ll look different to-night when I’m 
grease-painted and pursued by a blood-thirsty 
hound. This is only a rehearsal. (As Laura 
emerges from door r.) Oh, Maud Muller, aren’t 
you lovely? 

Laura (Well pleased with herself) Think so? 
Do you like me, Mr. Olcutt? 

Olcutt. (Indifferently) Fine! 

Betty. And how do I'look as Maud Muller’s 
Judge ? 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 7 


Buss. ( Facetiously ) Judge not! 

Olcutt. ( Hesitatingly ) Well, er- 

Betty. I know I ought to have worn riding- 
breeches, because the poem says “the judge rode 
slowly down the lane, smoothing his horse’s chest¬ 
nut mane,” but mother wouldn’t let me. 

Laura. It seems a shame I can’t have a real 
man for a judge. I know I can never act coquettish 
when I think of Betty’s mustache. 

Olcutt. Well, we aren’t all here yet! Where’s 
Pocahontas ? 

Bernice. Late, as usual. 

Laura. That girl never is on time, even to a 
game of basket-ball. 

Bernice. ( Opens door r. and calls off) Birdie! 
Birdie ! Hurry up ! 

(Vivian walks in from c.) 

Alberta. ( Heard off r.) I’m coming. ( En¬ 
ters lazily from r.) But I can’t hurry—ever, and 
you just know I can’t. ( Takes a chocolate from 
box she carries ) Just had an awful time trying to 
make my dress meet in the back. (Eats another 
chocolate) 

Berntcf.. 1 don’t know why on earth we nick¬ 
named you “ Birdie ”. You never fly. 

Alberta. Well, I can’t help it if I’m slow. When 
you’re fat it makes you slow. 

Laura. (As Alberta helps herself to another 
piece of candy) If you’d just stop eating so much 
candy- 

Alberta. But I have to eat candy. My system 
demands it. 

Buss. And Birdie believes in system. 

Vivian. Never mind, Birdie. I think a fat 
Pocahontas is ever so much more charming than 
a thin one. 

Laura. ( Sarcastically ) So much more apt to 



8 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


ready to be burned alive, I shall die of thrills, I 
Smith to save him. 

Olcutt. Allow me to congratulate you on your 
patriotism in your choice of costume, Miss Mar¬ 
lowe. 

Vivian. I chose it because I’m just crazy to 
go abroad and nurse the poor French soldiers. I 
think if I could just bandage one of their darling 
wounded heads I should expire! 

Buss. She wouldn’t expire, but the soldier she 
was nursing would. 

Laura. (As Mrs. Scrovins and Matilda ap¬ 
pear in door c.) Oh, Mrs. Scrovins, there you are! 
I’ve been waiting for you to fix my dress. 

Mrs. Scrovins. (Taking pins from front of her 
dress, and arranging Laura's costume as she 
speaks ) Yes, here I am at last, though goodness 
knows I’m surprised at it, for all this afternoon I’ve 
been chasing around like a hen with her head cut 
off not being able to accomplish miracles and be in 
more than one place at a time, though my dear 
departed husband used to say there wasn’t anything 
an angel could do that I couldn’t, and I suppose 
it would be an easy matter to them having wings, 
though dear knows I shouldn’t know how to man¬ 
age them at first trial, and especially being un¬ 
comfortable if they came through the shoulder- 
blades. Yes, I know you’re backed up to me and 
wanting me to start in, Miss Laura, but the trouble 
began with my being half an hour late with my 
work this morning, which I shall always lay to the 
clock stopping an hour in the middle of the night 
without warning and then starting on again, which 
as you’ll all agree is something no clock was ever 
known to do before, though as I said to Jane Allen 
this morning when she came out to turn on the 
hose you can’t tell what will happen in these times 
from one day to another, and- 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 9 


Matilda. ( Interrupting wearily ) What Ma 
means is she overslept an hour this mornin’ and it 
made her behindhand. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Which is exactly what I was 
saying in plain words, all but the oversleeping 
which wasn’t me but the clock, and never can be 
made up again for goodness knows I do all that’s 
possib’e for a woman to do now, and anyway I’ve 
looped you up on one side, Miss Laura, but being 
just pinned it won’t stay, and Miss Vivian’s petti¬ 
coat shows a little below her dress, and Pocahontas 
isn’t more than half held together, and being as I 
was asked by the committee of arrangements to take 
charge of you young ladies, and glad to do it reason¬ 
able though when my husband was alive I was 
beholden to no one, and you’d better be sewed to¬ 
gether all of you instead of pinned for though some 
say I’m over particular I’ve always thought there’d 
be nothing on earth so embarrassing as to have your 
clothes drop off before a large audience. 

Matilda. (With increasing weariness) What 
Ma means is that if you’ll come on into the dress¬ 
ing-room she’ll tack you up. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Which were my identical words 
in plain English, Tildy, because the light is good 
in there and needle and thread handy, although my 
eyesight being remarkably keen for a woman of my 
age, which after all isn’t the age some think it 
is- 

Matilda. (Manages to interrupt as Mrs. Scrov¬ 
ins takes a deep breath) I don’t know what Ma 
means by that. 

Laura. ( Starts for door r.) Come on, Bernice, 
and be tacked while Mrs. Scrovins is here. 

Bernice. Thanks, Laura, but I don’t need tack¬ 
ing. The tackier Eliza looks the more realistic she 
is. 



10 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Alberta. I don’t want niy beads and feathers 
coming loose. 

Vivian. I’m going to practice my pose while 
you work, Mrs. Scrovins. I think being in a tab¬ 
leau is just the most blissfully ecstatic fun in the 
world. O, do come on! 

Mrs: Scrovins. (As Laura, Alberta, Betty, 
Vivian and Matilda exit r.) Pm coming as fast 
as I can come, though doubtless you don’t realize 
it being carried away by excitement and youth, 
which comes but once in a lifetime, and then speeds 
away like a thunder cloud, which I should know 
being led to the altar myself when a mere child, 
and — (Disappears through door r. still talking) 

Walters. (Struts in rather stagily at c. from 
corridor l.) Well, Olcutt, have you had the tab¬ 
leau inspection yet? 

Olcutt. No, Mr. Walters, but I think they’ll 
all be on hand for it inside of five minutes. 

Walters. (Posing) You can inspect me right 
now if you like. Any suggestions? 

Olcutt. (Rather coldly) None whatever. 

Walters. It would surprise me if you were 
able to pick any flaws in my costume. As an au¬ 
thority on history I looked out for every detail 
myself. 

Bernice. We ought to feel honored that one of 
our professors is to take part in the tableaux. I 
should never have known you as Nathan Hale. 

Walters. (With a conceited smile) One of our 
young ladies remarked that no Broadway profes¬ 
sional could look the part better. I always had a 
slight leaning toward the dramatic. Well, I’ll see 
how things are going in Assembly Hall. (Starts 
toward door c.) Most of the teachers will be on 
hand for rehearsal, I know. (Exits c. into corri¬ 
dor and off r. in corridor )“ 

Buss. Say, Olcutt, you’ve always declared Wal- 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES n 


ters was a double-faced trickster, and Eve doubted 
it. But now I take off my hat to you. Anyone 
can see at a glance that he’s miscast as Nathan Hale, 
—that he’d be the last man on earth to lay down 
his life for his country. Isn’t that so? 

Bernice. But he certainly did look awfully 1 
swell. 

Olcutt. ( Quickly, to Bernice) But that’s a 
mistake. Nathan Hale was a child of the people, 
a plain country chap, and Walters has togged him 
out like a millionaire. 

Buss. Why didn’t you tell him so and take down 
his conceit? 

Olcutt. Because there’s something about his 
shifty eyes that gets my goat. I hate him so I 
have to be polite to him just to prove to-myself my 
personal feelings aren’t making me unfair to him. 

Vivian. (Enters r.) Well, as a general helper 
in time of need, Mrs. Scrovins takes the medal 
even if she does have the continuous-conversation 
habit. Do I impress you as a typical Red Cross 
nurse, Mr. Olcutt? 

Olcutt. The top part of you is all right, but 
how about the shoes ? 

Vivian. How about them? Well, they cost 
twelve-fifty, and I think they’re too deliciously 
adorable for anything, don’t you? 

Olcutt. For the ball-room, yes. But a typical 
Red Cross nurse wouldn’t- 

Vivian. (Interrupts indignantly ) That’s all 
you know about it, Frank Olcutt, and I beg to 
inform you.that if I once got over to France, and 
the Red Cross found fault with my silk stockings 
and pumps, I’d resign then and there, and their 
old organization would just have to take the con¬ 
sequences. 

Buss. Sh! Don’t let the Red Cross hear you, 
Vivian. The blow might stagger it. 



12 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


(Mrs. Scrovins, who begins to talk before she is 
in sight , enters from door r. followed by Mat¬ 
ilda, Alberta, Laura and Betty.) 

Mrs. Scrovins. (Removing pins from her month 
and putting them into a small cu'shion at her belt 
as she talks) And now I’ll go on into the Assembly 
Room and mend a hole in the drop-curtain, for 
goodness knows it spoils the effect to see what’s 
going on before it is going on, as my friend Myrtle 
Green used to remark that married the policeman, 
whom I’ll always remember about from losing a 
bran new pair of pants out of the closet by theft 
the day after her sister married a Member of Con¬ 
gress and wasn’t particularly bright either when 
they were the only pair the poor creature had fit to 
wear, and- 

Matilda. Ma means the police had his pants 
stole, not Miss Green nor Congress. 

(Exit Buss c. into corridor and off l. with ladder.) 

Mrs. Scrovins. Which was my identical re¬ 
marks in plain English, and it’s not proper of you, 
Tildy, to interrupt your mother the way you do, but 
such a day as it has been! No wonder with every¬ 
body expecting everything done at once, including 
the faculty, and my poor husband always treating 
me like a wax doll, and—what are you dawdling 
there keeping me waiting for, Tildy? ( Starts for 
door c. and exits with Matilda into corridor and 
off r. still talking) Though I suppose they’re just 
putting in their time gossiping among themselves 
which is not befitting the married state, as I should 
know having been through such an experience my¬ 
self as a mere child, and—( Her voice dies azvay 
outside) 

Bernice. We’re all ready for inspection, Frank. 
Why don’t you begin? 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 13 


Olcutt. Lena Bergenfeld isn’t here. 

Bernice. Oh, I’d almost forgotten Lena! 

Laura. It’s her own fault, isn’t it, if she’s late? 
Why should we wait for her? 

Olcutt. Why shouldn’t we wait for her? 

Laura. (With a sarcastic smile and much em¬ 
phasis) Well, we know how we feel about her 
taking part in these tableaux anyhow—don’t we, 
Bernice ? 

Bernice. I’ve been thinking that over, Laura. 
The Red Cross is a neutral organization, you know. 

Laura. Well, I don’t care if it is! We’ve 
broken off diplomatic relations with Germany, and 
Lena oughtn’t to be allowed in these tableaux at 
all. I think I’ll give her a gentle hint to that effect 
when she comes in. 

Olcutt. What’s that? What are you going to 
do ? 

Laura. Why, I just thought—that is, Bernice 
and I together thought- 

Bernice. Truly, Frank, do you think Lena 
should be in these tableaux now when any minute 
war may be declared? 

Olcutt. Of course I do. Lena was born in 
America and of an American mother. 

Laura. Well, her father is German, and Lena 
lived four years in Germany after her mother died, 
and to me she seems German to the very backbone. 
We girls just can’t be as friendly toward her as we 
are toward each other. 

Olcutt. That’s no news to me. I’ve noticed for 
a month past how she’s been snubbed and neglected 
and made to feel -a stranger and an alien. Yes, 
I’ve watched you, and I’ve seen it. And so 
has she. She wouldn’t have taken part in this 
show at-all if I hadn’t got Principal McCormack 
to put it up to her as a special favor. He repre¬ 
sented to her that as we were the two pupils who 



i 4 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

stood highest in the Senior Class he wanted us in 
the same scene. That’s why she overlooked your 
snubs and came back into the tableau. And since 
she was obliging enough to do it I just want to say 
one thing more. I’m running this affair, and if 
Lena Rergenfeld hears a single remark that makes 
her feel she isn’t welcome here, everything’s off 
for to-night—that’s all, and there’ll be no Red 
Cross benefit. 

Bernice. When he speaks like that, everybody 
has to give in. 

Lena. ( Enters hastily at c. from l. in corridor ) 
Am I dreadfully late? Oh, I’m so sorry! I hope 
you’ll forgive me. 

Bernice. * ( Sotto voce to Laura) Here’s to 
fall on her neck! ( Politely, as she face's the new¬ 

comer) You aren’t so very late, Lena. 

Laura. ( Sweetly ) Not so very. 

Bernice. And doubtless you have a good ex¬ 
cuse ! 

Vivian. Of course you have. 

Betty. Certainly. 

Alberta. We all know that. . 

Lena. You see, in order to match a hair-ribbon 
to a sample of dress, I had to visit every store in 
town. 

Laura. ( With exaggerated sweetness) Oh, 
of course, if you were matching hair ribbons- 

Olcutt. She had a perfect right to do so, and 
as Blunderbuss hasn’t completed his property-list 
anyhow, there’s plenty of time. 

Lena-. ( Throzvs back long coat she is wearing) 

I don’t have to change my dress.- I’m wearing my 
Priscilla costume under this long coat. ( Removes 
coat) 

Bernice. You do look sweet, Lena. 

Laura. Lovely! 

Betty. Dear! 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 15 


Vivian. Ravishing! 

Alberta. {With a sigh) Thin! 

Laura. ( Aside to Bernice) Matching rib¬ 
bons ! A made-up excuse, of course. 

(Enter Matilda c. from r. in corridor.) 

Lena. ( Catching sight of Matilda) Oh, Tildy, 
you’re just the one I wanted to see! 

Matilda. You didn’t get it, I know you didn’t, 
so you needn’t tell me! 

Lena. But I did get it, Tildy. 

Matilda. You did? Honest Injun? (With 
renewed doubt) But you didn’t get it to match! 
Ma says this dress is made out of one of Aunt 
Rhody’s and it can’t be matched this side of King¬ 
dom Come. 

Lena. But I did match it without going to 
Kingdom Come for the purpose, Tildy. To be 
sure, I started out early this afternoon and couldn’t 
find what I wanted until I got to a little shop away 
the other side of the railroad track—but there they 
had some old, old ribbons that must have been as 
old as your Aunt Rhody’s dress, and—here they 
are for. your birthday. 

Matilda. (Draws end of ribbon from package 
Lena hands her) My croolcy! Look at ’em! 
Bows for my hair! Two bows! I always wanted 
' bows, but I thought I’d have to wait until I was 
grown up to get ’em. Now I can wear bows 
to the tableaux! Oh, thank you, Miss Bergenfeld! 
I’m just as happy as if I was an angel! Bows for 

my birthday! I want Ma to see ’em. Ma—*Ma- 

(Rums off at c. and to R.) 

Bernice. To make that forlorn kid so happy 
was worth being late for, Lena. Girls, we ought 
to have remembered Tildy’s birthday too. It was 
nice of you to take all that trouble for her, Lena. 



16 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Lena. Oh, it wasn’t anything—a pleasure to 
me to please her, that’s all. She’s a friendly little 
thing, and I have so few friends here. Not that I’m 
complaining—( Hastily, with a desire to change 
the subject) You girls look so well—so very 
charming, and —(To Bernice) so dramatic. 

Bernice. I think my hair hanging wild is dra¬ 
matic, but it takes the bloodhound to complete me. 

Olcutt. (To Lena) You’re wonderful as 
Priscilla. 

Laura. Isn’t she? Very effective indeed, though 
rather German in type. 

Olcutt. (Quickly) Which makes it all the 
better. • The Puritan and the German types are 
rather similar. 

Buss. (Enters at c. from l. carrying various 
articles to be used in the tableau) Well, I hope 
I’ve collected all the props this time that were 
missing at the last rehearsal, for I’ve levied on 
all the old junk in town to do it. 

Olcutt. Then everybody line up for the tab¬ 
leau inspection. (All those in costume form in 
line) 

Bernice. Where’s your John Alden costume, 
Frank? 

Olcutt. I’ll rehearse as I am because I have to 
drill the Boy Scouts soon as this is over. (Calls 
names ceremoniously) Maud Muller! 

Laura. (Arranges her sun-hat consciously) 

Present. 

Olcutt. (Consults a small note-book taken 
from his pocket) Properties not furnished last 
time: a cup and a rake. 

Buss. (Passing articles named to Laura) Here 
you are! 

Laura. (Protestingly) But that’s a china shav- 
mg-mug! On the program if says: “ She filled 

for him her small tin cup.” 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 17 


Buss. ( With a mind above such trivialities) Oh, 
what's the diff, Laura? He can drink out of it 
first and shave out of it afterwards. 

Olcutt. ( Firmly, as he takes mug from Laura 
and hands it back to Blunderbuss) You’ll have 
to try again, Blunderbuss. ( Consults note-book 
again) The Judge! 

Betty. Present! 

Olcutt. ( Looks at list) Not provided last 
time—one mustache! 

Buss. Here it is with a sticker attached. ( Puts 
is against Betty's upper lip where it remains) 

Betty. ( Anxiously) I hope I look dignified. 

Olcutt. Pocahontas! Stake called for. 

Alberta. Present! {Devours a chocolate-drop) 

Buss. {Hands over a long wooden stake to Al¬ 
berta) Say, I nearly bought a beefsteak to bring 
you until I happened to notice the way it was spelled. 

Vivian. Oh, when John Smith is tied to that 
ready to be burned alive, I shall die of thrills, I 
know I shall! 

Olcutt. By the way, where is John Smith? 

Buss. Backed out. He -says when Birdie fell 
on his neck everybody’d holler “ squashed,” and he 
can’t stand it. 

Alberta. {Indignantly) Well, if he doesn’t 
show up you’ll have to be John Smith yourself, 
Blunderbuss, for I’ve spent two dollars on beads 
and feathers just to save his life, and safe it I will! 

Buss. {Faintly) Help! 

Olcutt. Priscilla! 

Lena. Spinning-wheel on stage. My yarn I 
have here. {Indicates apron pocket) 

Olcutt. Red Cross Nurse! 

Vivian. Present! 

Buss. What the dickens have you got in your 
hand ? 

Vivian. A sanitary wash-cloth I knitted myself 


i8 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

to remove war microbes from the faces of those 
dear hospital soldiers! I thought the idea was 
quite an inspiration! 

Olcutt. Eliza! 

Bernice. Present. Ice on the stage. ^ Where’s 
my bloodhound, Blunderbuss? Now don’t tell me 
you’ve forgotten him again! 

Buss. He’s outside, I’ll get him. ( Exits c. and 

Off L.) 

Bernice. I told him to borrow Mr. Mathewson’s 
Great Dane. He’s the fiercest looking dog in town. 

Alberta. I should think you’d be afraid of him 
unless you had something to feed him with. ( Eats 
another chocolate drop) 

Buss. ( Enters, carrying a stuffed dog) Here’s 
your bloodhound. 

Bernice. ( Highly indignant) That? But that 
is stuffed! 

Buss. He’d look too thin if I took the stuffing 
out. 

Bernice. ( Turns to Olcutt) Frank, I simply 
won’t have him—he’s absurd! 

Buss. He’ll look real enough when the lights 
are on. Don’t jump into me, Bernice, it makes 
me nervous. ( Retires to extreme l. and stands near 
punch-buttons in wall) 

Bernice. You just act contrary on purpose. 
You could have got that Great Dane if you had 
tried. 

Buss. Professor Me Cormack himself said you’d 
better not have him. 

Bernice. But who first suggested a stuffed dog 
instead of a real one, you or the Professor? Tell 
me that. 

Buss. ( Rather sheepishly) I suppose I did, 
first. 

Bernice. I knew it. 

Buss. (Nervously punches button near his hand 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 19 


to relieve his feelings) Now look here, Bernice. 
That Great Dane is half wild and might think 
you’d make a good luncheon. 

Bernice. So, just because you though it might 
be dangerous, you went and spoiled my pleasure! 

Olcutt. Now don’t start quarreling again, you 
two. 

Bernice. ( Almost in tears) I’m not quarreling, 
but ever since I was so high, ( Makes illustrative 
gesture) and Blunderbuss lived across the street 
from us, he’s thought it was up to him to take 
charge of me, as if I were an idiot or something. 
Once when Daddy had bought me high boots on 
purpose to wade through snowdrifts in, Blunder¬ 
buss came along and insisted on carrying me home. 
I suppose he can’t help it of course if his brains 
all went to his feet, but it’s mighty hard on me. 

Buss. ( Nervously punches push-button in wall 
again) Abraham Lincoln had big feet, too. He 
wore the same sized boots I do. 

Bernice. But he had brains to correspond. 

Buss. I suppose I am an awful duffer, but I 
don’t make half the mistakes I used to. 

(Enter Michael excitedly at c. from l. He carries 
a fire extinguisher.) 

Michael. Out of the way, everybody! Give 
me a clear space! Where’s the fire? 

Omnes. What fire? “ Is there a fire ? ” “Gra¬ 
cious, a fire! ” etc. 

Walters. (Entering at c.) What’s the excite¬ 
ment ? 

Olcutt. What makes you think there’s a fire, 
Michael? There isn’t a sign of one here. 

Michael. Then what’s that fire-alarm over there 
been ringin’ down-stairs for as if Satan himself 
was punchin’ the button? 


20 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Buss. (Gives a wild start and backs away from 
buttons consciously') Oh, I guess I—I wasn t no¬ 
ticing—and did it by accident! 

Bernice. Blunderbuss! Of course! And he 
talks about Abraham Lincoln! 

Michael. What? No fire at all? And me 
runnin’ up two flights of stairs wid me game leg 
tryin’ to double under me every step? (Walks up 
to Blunderbuss) Tve a good mind to extinguish 
you, young man, fire or no fire. 

Buss. ( Ruefully ) Don’t. I’m extinguished 
enough already. 

Michael. Well, I’ll overlook it this time, but 
never again. 

Buss. (Nods) Nuff said. 

(Exit Michael c. and off l. as Bernice begins to 
talk.) 

Bernice. Come on, girls, into the Assembly 
Room, and see what the teachers think of us. Come 
on, everybody. 

(Omnes exit carrying props and chattering ad lib. 
Walters detains Lena who is the last to ap¬ 
proach door c.) 

Walters. Wait a minute, Miss Bergenfeld. I’ve 
a bone to pick with you. 

Lena. (Looking toward door c. as if desirous 
of making her escape) Why so, Mr. Walters? 

Walters. Because you didn’t give me even a 
glimpse of you last night when I called to see your 
father. 

Lena. I do not always wait to see my father’s 
company, and besides—I wanted to study. 

Walters. But I had told you I hoped to see you 
while there. 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 21 
(Lena is silent.) 

Walters. ( Sentimentally, after a pause) Why 
do you dislike me so? 

Lena. (With sudden resolution, face's him) 
Nathan Hale regretted that he had only one life to 
give for his country. How could you choose to 
take that part in the tableaux? 

Walters. ( Wincing) Is that the thanks I get 
from you for working with your father for the 
interests of Germany? It strikes me we’re all in 
the same boat—you, your respected father and my¬ 
self. 

Lena-. ( Earnestly) But there’s a difference. 
My father and I are working for Germany because 
we are of German blood and think she is in the 
right, but you work for her because you’re paid 
for it in gold. Oh, I don’t care how father looks 
at it, I can’t forget you’re doing it for pay. 

Walters. Very well, I’ll talk the matter over 
with your father, and- 

Lena. ( Shozving fear) Oh, no! you mustn’t 
tell father what I’ve said. He wouldn’t like it, I 
know. (To Olcutt, relievedly, as he enters at c. 
from r.) Oh, Mr. Olcutt, have I kept you wait¬ 
ing? 

Olcutt. (Comes down) Not at all. The bell 
for rehearsal hasn’t rung yet, and anyhow our tab¬ 
leau comes last. 

WAlters. (Irritably) What are they waiting 
for? I’m tired of this senseless hanging around. 
(Exits c. and off r. in corridor) 

Olcutt. (With boyish delight) Is it possible 
I’m here alone with you, Lena, without a mob at 
my elbow? I never saw such a place as a Co-ed 
Academy anyhow. There’s about as much chance 
for really getting acquainted with a girl as if she 
lived in Greenland. 



22 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Lena. (Her manner all gracionsnes in sharp 
contrast to her treatment of Walters) Was there 
anything special you wanted to say to me? 

Olcutt. ( Confused ) Wh—why—( Has a sud¬ 
den inspiration) Oh, yes! I wanted to give you 
back your pen-knife. You let it fall as you passed 
my desk this morning. 

Lena. (Takes pen-knife and slips it in a pocket 
of her apron) Thank you, I was wondering what 
had become of it. 

Olcutt. Anyhow—I wanted a private chat with 
you. 

Lena. ( Taking alarm) About what? It—it 
has nothing to do with my father, has it? 

Olcutt. Your father? No! Why, Lena, please 
don’t think I’m prejudiced against him even if he 
is German born. Why, I agree with Dad that if 
war is declared the greater part of the population 
will stand by the land of their adoption. The Ger¬ 
mans were splendid soldiers in our Civil War, and 
if we break with Germany to the fighting point, I 
know Mr. Bergenfeld will prove himself a true 
and loyal American. 

Lena. I think you have the spirit of fair play 
more than some of the others, Mr. Olcutt. 

Olcutt. You mustn’t let the girls bother you by 
their remarks on that subject, Lena. They’re emo¬ 
tional, and snobbish, and cliqueish without realizing 
it. But then that’s partly your own fault, you 
know. 

Lena. My own fault? How? 

Olcutt. You haven’t given any of us a chance 
to really know you. You ought to chum in with us 
more. And that’s what I wanted to speak about 
especially. I want to ask for your company to the 
Senior dance and reception next week. 

Lena. Thank you, but I can’t go—really, Mr. 
Olcutt, I can’t. 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 23 

Olcutt. I knew you’d say that. But why, Lena ? 
Don’t you—like me? 

Lena. Of course, Mr. Olcutt! It hasn’t a thing 
to do with you, personally. But I’ve never been 
around with the other girls, as you know, not even 
to their little parties, and they’ll all expect you to 
ask some one among them who is pretty and popu¬ 
lar—Laura, for instance. 

Olcutt. Who cares what the class expects ? 
There’s only one girl in the world I’ll enjoy taking, 
and I’ve dreamed of taking her ever since she first 
entered Redfiekl Academy a year ago. Lena, you’ll 
not turn me down and make the whole reception a 
ghastly farce to me—now will you? 

Lena. I—I’m not sure my father would con¬ 
sent. 

Olcutt. Let me ask him myself. My father 
will be at that reception and I want you and him 
to become acquainted. He’s wonderful, Lena. 

Lena. (Rather forcing her words) Yes, I 
understand he has profited greatly by this war be¬ 
tween Germany and England, and of course if Am¬ 
erica joined in the war—his factories would be kept 
still busier. 

Olcutt. There, now, Lena, I’ve tried to be fair 
with you and your father, and you must be the 
same with me. The girls have made you bitter, I 
know, but you mustn’t let that blind you to the 
truth. I honestly believe that if it came to a test 
there isn’t an American manufacturer in this United 
States but would sacrifice every penny of profits 
the war might bring him to save the life of just 
one boy that starts out to fight under the old flag. 
If our country goes to war, it will be because we 
put something above human life, that’s true, but 
that something isn’t profit and money, it’s right and 
justice. (Lena has moved over to the window at 
l. and stands looking out) Why, just to show you 


24 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

how little my Dad thinks of the money part of it 
—are you listening, Lena? 

Lena. Yes, of course: 

Olcutt. You were looking out of the window. 

I thought you didn’t seem interested. 

Lena. Some gathering clouds caught my eye for 
just a moment, but I’m listening. I am interested. 

(She comes hack and drops down in desk chair. 
He stands near her) 

Olcutt. Well, then, Dad’s just completed a 
wonderful invention, a new under-sea torpedo to 
help wipe out the submarines. If war is declared, 
he intends to put it at the disposal of Uncle Sam 
without one cent of pay for it! He says he’s too old 
to fight, but that will be his way of doing his bit. 
That’s how much the patriotic sons of America think 
of money when it comes to a showdown. Good 
Lord, here I am haranguing you like a soap-box 
orator, Lena. Get me started on patriotism, and I 
never know where to stop. Let’s get back to that 
Senior Reception. You will go with me, Lena, 
won’t you? 

Lena. I—I’ll speak to father about it and let 
you know. I’d really like your company ever so 
much. 

Olcutt. Thank you for saying that—just that 
one sentence was worth waiting a year for in itself. 
(Sound of zvild cheering and babble heard off R.) 
What’s the racket, I wonder? 

Buss. (Heard off) Olcutt! Olcutt! Where 
are you? (Enters at c. from r.) Say, do you sup- . 
pose they’ll give young fellows like us a chance to 
fight ? 

Olcutt. To fight? What are you talking about? 
The rehearsal- 

Buss. Rehearsal nothing! Everybody’s forgot¬ 
ten there is such a thing. The'U. S. is at war with 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 25 


Germany. Prof. McCormack has just come from 
town with the news. 

Olcutt. Hurrah for Uncle Sam! 

Lena. ( Almost inaudibly ) At—war—with 

Germany! 

Olcutt. ( Still facing Buss, having forgotten 
Lena for the time being ) Dad said it would come 
to that, but I didn’t think it would be so soon! 
Where is Professor McCormack. 

Bernice. ( Enters at c. followed by Vivian, 
Laura, Alberta and Betty) Frank! Just think 
—we’re actually at war! President Wilson declares 
a state of war exists! They’re forming an im¬ 
promptu parade in front of the Post Office down 
town and everybody’s wild! 

Olcutt. If there’s a parade, I’ll bet Dad’s 
marching at the head of it. 

Bernice. Oh, do you suppose he is? 

Betty. I hope they’ll march up Academy Ave¬ 
nue ! 

Vivian. So do I! I want to wave to them. I 
was never so ecstatically exhilarated in my life! 

Olcutt. Where is Professor Me Cormack? 

Bernice. Still talking to the students. Hurry 
up if you don’t want to miss it! 

Olcutt. Come on, everybody! (Exits at c. and 
off r. followed by Bernice, Betty, Laura, Al¬ 
berta and Buss. Lena remains. Covers her face 
with her hands) 

Bergenfeld. ( Enters quietly at c. from r.) 

Lena! 

Lena. ( Gives slight, startled scream, then faces 
her father) Father—you’ve heard? 

Bergenfeld. (Makes careful attempt always 
to speak good English, but his German accent is 
evident) Yes, and it is what I have expected al¬ 
ready yet for two weeks past. Now it is for us 


26 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


to use the brain and play our part. It is fortunate 
th^Lt I find you alone. 

Lena. Fortunate? Why? Jhey all know we 
are Germans. 

Bergenfeld. But not that we have worked for 
her in the past, nor that we shall work for her 
now with ten times the more energy. Now it will 
be work indeed! 

Lena. But, father, if anyone should suspect— 

Bergenfeld. Do not fear, my Lena. I am here 
•to make it tha^ they shall not. You shall watch 
me with the wide open eyes. ( Some one begins to 
play “ Columbia ” on piano off r. Sound of cheer - 
ing heard off r.) 

Lena. Listen ! They are coming back ! 

Bernice. ( Heard off r.) The U. S. A. for¬ 
ever! (Rushes in followed by Vivian, Betty, 
Laura, Alberta, Mrs. Scrovins, Matilda, Buss 
and Olcutt. Everybody has flag, pennant, or 
bright sweater in hand) Three cheers for Pro¬ 
fessor McCormack—the good old patriot, and you 
can wave your sweater if you haven’t got anything 
better. (Omnes, except Lena) Hurrah. Hur- 
Tah ! Hurrah! 

Vivian. ( Referring to piano-music off r.) Oh, 
there’s something about that patriotic music that 
makes me feel as if I could go out on the battle¬ 
field and' capture that old Kaiser myself! 

Bernice. I’m glad we don’t have to pretend to 
be friends with him any more. I just hate those 
old Hohenzollerns—oh, Mr. Bergenfeld—I didn’t 
notice— (Stops, fearing she may have wounded 
his feelings) 

Bergenfeld. (Pleasantly, but with a ceremoni¬ 
ous how) Good evening, Miss Olcutt and the others. 

Bernice. Of course I didn’t mean to be per¬ 
sonal—-just—just military, that’s all. I didn’t no¬ 
tice that you—that is—I didn’t think-—— 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 27 

Bergenfeld. ( With perfect courtesy ) It is a 
time of much excitement and enthusiasm, now the 
Declaration of War for which we have been waiting 
has come! 

Alberta. I was so worked up I swallowed two 
whole chocolate drops at once! 

Bergenfeld. In one short five minutes Germany 
the friend has become Germany the hated enemy. 

Olcutt. Our President kept us from war as 
long as he could, Mr. Bergenfeld. 

Bergenfeld. Yes, yes, I know, and now in a 
time like this it is for us of the Fatherland to 
choose which shall be our country, Germany or 
the E T nited States. 

Olcutt. It must be pretty hard. 

Bergenfeld. Hard, yes. Many good friends 1 
have made the four years when I live with my 
Lena there in Berlin, besides the friends of my 
youth I met again there on that visit. My Gretchen, 
she is married to a German subject and lives in 
Alsace. But I have hesitated not one short minute 
in my decision since the break has come. Mr. Ol¬ 
cutt, you are the Captain of the Redfield Academy 
Cadets, is it not so? 

Bergenfeld. Yes, yes, I know, and now in a 
few months we boys have been giving considerable 
attention to military training. 

Bergenfeld. The Cadets have their own com¬ 
pany flag, yes? 

Olcutt. No, but you bet we will have one now 
as soon as we can raise the money. 

(Music ceases.) 

Bergenfeld. Then the money must be provided. 
(Sits at desk and as the others talk produces a 
check book and writes a check) 

Bernice. We girls will help out with a raffle. 


28 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Laura. Or a dance. 

Vivian. Or an endless-chain letter. 

Betty. Lectures! 

Alberta. A fudge party. ( Devours a chocolate- 
drop ) 

Bergenfeld. (Rises from desk) It is my pleas¬ 
ure to make it all unnecessary. (Presents Olcutt 
a check) There is my check. On this, the day of 
the declaration of war, Otto Bergenfeld presents 
a flag to the Redfield Cadets who will soon be fight¬ 
ing for America. 

Olcutt. Bully for you, Mr. Bergenfeld . You 
mean by that-? 

Bergenfeld. I mean my daughter and I are 
good Americans. 

Buss. (Enthusiastically) I say, old fellow— 
that is—I didn’t mean you’re old of course—just 
that you look old- 

Bernice. (Reproachfully) Blunderbuss! 

Buss. What I meant was that we boys are 
mighty grateful—that you and Lena are the real 
thing and- 1 

Bernice. (To Buss) That’s more like it. 
(Goes to Lena, cordially) Lena, we girls are just 
as ashamed of ourselves as we can be. 

Betty. We’ve always been so afraid you were 
a real German at heart. 

Bernice. And sympathized with crushing Bel¬ 
gium and the blowing up of the Lusitania and all 
that! 


(Lena tries to speak, then turns away.) 

Laura. (In honied, yet half suspicious tones ) 
But now of course we know you didn’t. 

Bergenfeld. Lena is overcome with your kind¬ 
ness. Smile, my daughter. If is always my wish 
you be good friends with your schoolmates. 





HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 29 


Lena. ( Forcing a smile) Yes, father—I know. 
(To Bernice) I thank you. You are very kind. 

(Buss exits c. unobserved.) 

Olcutt. No, not kind, only just. And I’d like 
to ask you right now, Mr. Bergenfeld, if I may 
have your daughter’s company to the Senior Re¬ 
ception. 

Bergenfeld. Until Lena is older, I prefer her 
to give her mind entirely to her studies, but I make 
now the exception, because I admire your spirit and 
that of your patriotic father. She shall be per¬ 
mitted to accept of your invitation. 

Olcutt. Thank you, Mr. Bergenfeld. 

(Enter Buss, carrying a worn flag.) 

Buss. Swiped this flag from the Assembly Room. 
Had to think up something to let off my superfluous 
patriotism or bust. What’s the matter with every¬ 
body pledging allegiance to Old Glory?—We all 
know the pledge from the Boy Scouts’ Manual. 

Bernice. I declare, Blunderbuss, occasionally 
you do have an idea! All face the flag! (Omnes 
do so except Lena who slips away toward l.) 
Now, one—two—three— pledge! 

Omnes. “ I pledge allegiance to the flag, and to 
the Republic for which it stands; one nation in¬ 
divisible, with liberty and justice for all.” 

Vivian. A girl who wouldn’t just do everything 
for the flag, I’d despise. 

Laura. Why weren’t you with us, Lena? 

Olcutt. Why, she was, wasn’t she? 

Lena. (Who has been nervously handling a pen¬ 
knife) No—I—I cut my finger just now—an ac¬ 
cident—so I—I felt faint and dropped out. ( Shows 
hand, and finger stained with blood) 


30 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


(There is a sympathetic murmur from onlookers.) 

Olcutt. I’m sorry. Can’t I get you something? 

Bergenfeld. No, in a moment it will pass. She 
has been too sensitive always from a child. 

Bernice. Well, it’s good it’s nothing serious. 
(Looks down from window at l.) There are the 
Boy Scouts forming on the campus ! And Professor 
Me Cormack is getting ready to make them a speech. 
He’s forgotten everything but the war. 

Betty. Let’s all go down! 

Vivian. Oh, isn’t it just the most thrillinglv 
breathless thing just to be alive when there’s a war 
going on! 

Blunderbuss. You bet it is! Forward! 
March! (Marches out ahead of Omnes bearing 
flag. They exit at c. and off l. Bergenfeld, Lena 
and Olcutt remain) 

Olcutt. Wouldn’t you like to come down too, 
to hear what Professor Me Cormack says to the 
boys-—you and Lena, Mr. Bergenfeld? 

Bergenfeld. With pleasure, but my daughter 
she is still not quite herself. But from this window 
we can hear and see. 

Olcutt. That’s so—you can. I certainly hope 
you’ll soon feel all right again, Lena. 

Lena. Thank you—it’s really nothing to bother 
about. (Goes tozvard window) 

Olcutt. Those Scouts are a great bunch of 
boys—worth watching! ( Exits c. and off l.) 

Bergenfeld. He is stupid—a fool—that young 
man—as were all of them—or they could see you 
cut yourself as an excuse to keep from repeating 
the pledge. Why did you not go forward with the 
others ? 

Lena. I—I couldn’t, father. 

Bergenfeld. And why not? 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 31 


Lena. It didn’t seem right to pretend to be 
their friend—to pretend loyalty to the flag. 

Bergenfeld. You must put away such weak 
•scruples, or it is to bring suspicion on us and tie 
our hands. Listen, my daughter. I lived my young 
years in Germany. It is more great than any coun¬ 
try on earth. There is no poverty there. There 
is ex-act justice. There is no waste, no extrava¬ 
gance—such sins are not allowed. When Germany 
rules the world, the world will be happy. It is for 
the good of the world we are looking. 

Lena. I want to believe it, father—and I do 
believe it. of course. Yet sometimes when I read 
in the_ papers of their frightfulness, their cruelty 
to the old—both men and women—and that they’ve 
even mutilated little children- 

Bergenfeld. ( Passionately ) Lies, all lies! 

Written by the American people to make an excuse 
for the lust of gold which has drawn them into 
this war. 

Lena. Then why must we pretend to believe as 
they do ? 

Bergenfeld. It is not pleasant, maybe, but I am 
a phi’ospher. It is sometimes that we who are 
called to work the great problems of the world are 
required to do a little wrong that a great right 
may fol'ow. This little wrong is that we deceive 
the good, stupid Americans. The great right is that 
in the end Germany shall rule the world. (Sound 
of cheering heard from off r. l.) So then it is well 
you are friends with this young Olcutt even more 
than the others. 

Lena. Why so? 

Bergenfeld. Because the secret of that new tor¬ 
pedo on which his father is working must some¬ 
how be found out. 

Lena. (Amazed) ' But who told you of the in¬ 
vention? I thought no one knew. 




32 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Bergenfeld. We know all that happens. They 
have given us Germans credit for a few things, 
maybe, these Americans—preparedness, a great 
fighting machine, efficiency—but not for our spy 
system—the greatest the world has ever known. 
When the new flag comes to Olcutt for the Cadets 
—it is Lena Bergenfeld that shall ask from all again 
the pledge of loyalty. 

Lena. Father, that is one thing you must not 
require of me. Why, if I joined in a solemn pledge 
like that, I —I’d have to live up to it. I couldn’t 
be false to my sacred word! 

Bergenfeld. What? After all I have explain 
to you—you little soft-heart? Then, since a pledge 
means so much to you—there is one you shall take 
—here—now—the pledge of allegiance to the 
.Fatherland. As you speak the pledge, think of the 
time when these streets shall respond to the music 
of Deutschland Uber Alles! Are you ready for 
the pledge? 

Lena. {In a low, frightened tone) Yes, I am 
ready. 

Bergenfeld. Then say after me: “I do sol¬ 
emnly pledge my loyalty to the flag of my father—” 

Lena. “ I do solemnly pledge my loyalty to the 
flag of my father-” 

Bergenfeld. “ And if ever I am false to that 
pledge- ” 

Lena. “ And if ever I am false to that pledge —” 

Bergenfeld. “ I solemnly promise to destroy 
myself with my own hand.” 

Lena. Oh, father, that sounds so harsh, so ter¬ 
rible ! 

Bergenfeld. Say it ! 

Lena. “ I do solemnly promise to destroy my¬ 
self with my own hand.” 

Bergenfeld. And remember that with you a 
pledge is binding. And now I will leave you. That’s 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 33 

right—stand close by the window where you will be 
seen. Come home when you please. (Exits c. and 

off L.) 

(A chorus of young voices rises from beneath win - 
dow, singing The Star Spangled Banner.) 

Lena. (As she listens) That music! I’m Ger¬ 
man ! I’ve promised to be true to the flag of my 
father! I’m German—oh, why does that music 
thrill me so? 


Curtain. 


ACT II 

Time: June of the same year. (1917) 

Scene: Interior of rough shack in the zvoods. 
Door c. zvith windows either side of it, reveals 
background of zvoods and summer scenery. 
Red Cross banner over door. There is a door 
at l. leading into kitchen. Door at r. leads 
to sleeping-quarters. The furniture of the 
camp should suggest the temporary abiding place 
of several girls, each with a different idea of 
decoration and what is necessary to “ roughing 
it There is a lounge covered with gaily fig¬ 
ured cretonne. At l. near wall a fiat desk with 
drazver. Hanging above it is a large tilted look¬ 
ing-glass. At r. is a small table covered with 
zvhitc oil-cloth containing surgical dressings. 
College flags, pennants, wild-flowers etc., used 
bountifully. A coil of clothes-line hangs by 
door c. A small bench near door contains 
pail of zvater with dipper. Other furnishings 
ad lib. Chairs include one rocker. 



34 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Discovered: Betty, Alberta, Laura and Vivian 
at their various tasks. The room is bright with 
sunlight. 

(Enter Tilda from l. carrying two glasses of jelly. 

She is followed by Mrs. Scrovins.) 

Mrs. Scrovins. Don’t drop them glasses, Tildy! 

Omnes. ( Desisting momentarily from work) 

Jelly! 

Mrs. Scrovins. I just had Tildy bring ’em in 
as a sample, (Tildy exhibits jellies to the different 
girls) and there’s eighteen more glasses in the 
kitchen just like ’em or better, not being one of those 
people who always put the best jars of fruit to the 
front, or the best peaches in the top of the basket, 
though a practice sometimes indulged in even by 
the best of grocers, like the one on our street who 
married money which should have cured him of 
such practices, though she being cross-eyed and 
jilted by a tailor maybe wasn’t such a catch as ap¬ 
pears at first sight, and- 

Matilda. Ma means— how do you like her jell? 

Mrs. Scrovins. Of course—that’s exactly what 
I asked them, and—dear me, Tildy, you’ve fallen 
into an awful habit of repeating every word I say, 
though maybe I should take it as a compliment, for 
as my poor dear departed husband used to say— 
’imitation is the sincerest flattery, which I never 
was any hand for preferring plain truth, and not 
being a canner by nature, but with this war and 
Mr. Hoover filling up the papers, it’s up to all to 
do their duty, and however humble one may feel, 
eighteen glasses of jelly in one forenoon is a drop 
in the bucket if I do say it as shouldn’t and though 
I’m no hand to talk about myself- 

Matilda. Ma means she’s pretending she ain’t 
done much, but she has. 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 35 


Betty. Why, certainly, Mrs. Scrovins, the jelly 
is fine and you’ve done wonders! 

Laura. We’ve all done wonders. 

Vivian. Oh, if the war only knew the sacrifices 
we were all making for it, it certainly ought to be 
grateful! Here we are giving up our perfectly 
good mornings to canning fruit, and raising pigs, 
and knitting, and Red Cross supplies-:- 

Betty. Just think! This camp has sent in forty 
surgical-dressings this week, and only thirty-three 
were returned as imperfect! 

Vivian. The seven that were accepted were all 
Lena’s. 

Laura. Oh, of course, Lena, does everything per¬ 
fectly; but for all that I don’t believe hers were 
a bit better than anyone else’s. 

Vivian. Well, I’ve got knitter’s cramp from do¬ 
ing hospital-stockings for those poor dear darling 
Frenchmen, and this last pair doesn’t match and I 
suppose they’ll just have to find some soldier who 
doesn’t match either, for goodness knows I’d get 
so nervous ripping them all out again I just couldn’t 
stand it. 

Alberta. What hits me hardest is doing with¬ 
out sweets five days a week just because the world 
is getting short of sugar. I haven’t had a bit of 
candy since I left home and my stomach feels ex¬ 
actly like a vacuum cleaner. 

Matilda. Mine too, so I licked up some of the 
jelly Ma spilled over on the table. 

Alberta. ( Yearningly ) Did you? 

Mrs. Scrovins. Dear me, Tildy, to think of your 
telling it before these young ladies! though to be 
sure in one way it’s a compliment, showing my 
efforts to jell are appreciated, which is always a 
pleasure there being something in life besides filthy 
lucre, as my dear husband used to say when enjoy¬ 
ing a comfortable smoke, though dear knows there 



36 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


the resemblance ends, I never having tasted a cigar 
in my life, and being born without a desire for the 
weed, though some say it’s now countenanced in 
New York society, and being assisted in my jelling 
by Miss Bergenfeld anyway- 

Lena. (Heard off l.) Oh, Mrs. Scrovins—I’m 
afraid these berries want to be taken ofI! 

Matilda. Come on, Ma, she’s hollerin’ to you. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Of course, and I heard her, hav¬ 
ing left her to watch things as her own proposition 
and, Tildy, I’d thank you not to be forever pulling 
at. my dress, being naturally one of the sweetest girls 
I’ve ever known and with a simply angelic- 

Lena. (From off l. again) Mrs. Scrovins, you’d 
better hurry! 

Mrs. Scrovins. I’m coming, dear! (Mrs. 
Scrovins exits hastily l.) 

Matilda. Ma means Miss Bergenfeld’s the 
sweetest young girl with the simply angelic—not 
me! And I hope she spills some more je»ll when 
she takes it off! (Skips off at l.) 

(Enter Bernice, door c.) 

Omnes. “ Oh, here’s Bernice!” “Goody, 
goody!” “Any letters for me?” (etc., ad lib) 

Bernice. Something for all of you, and I just 
expect a vote of thanks for walking down to the 
rural delivery. 

Laura. I can’t see that thanks are especially re¬ 
quired. We excused you from surgical-dressings 
and have just been toiling our fingers off ever since 
you left. 

Bernice. If anybody offers you a thousand 
dollars for your disposition, Laura, you’d better 
take it and buy a different one/ Here, everybody 
take their letters! Birdie, yours is a package. I 
bet it’s chocolate bars! You ought to put them on 
sale and donate the proceeds to the cause. 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 37 


Alberta. ( Falteringly) Oh, but when mother 
sent them I don’t think it would be—kind to her, 
and besides—she doesn’t want my system to suffer. 

Bernice. Three letters for you, Viv, all in mas¬ 
culine hand-writing, or soon-to-be-masculine. 

Laura. From some cub about fourteen, doubt¬ 
less. Vivian, how do you have the patience? 

Vivian. Oh, but I think in war times anyone 
that’s ever going to be old enough to be a soldier 
is just too delectable for anything! 

Lena. ( Appears in door l.) Anything for me? 

Bernice. Lena, you’re a dream in that kitchen 
apron and your sleeves rolled up! 

Lena. Oh, I’d forgotten my sleeves! ( Pulls 

them down) I’ve been trying to help out Mrs. 
Scrovins with her jelly. 

Matilda. ( From l. bounces past Lena into the 
middle of the floor) Somethin’ else—somethin’ else 
—somethin’ else ! I peeked in the oven! Lena made 
it and Ma says we’re goin’ to have ’em for supper! 

Lena. Oh, Tildy, you little scamp — when I’d 
planned that for a surprise! But anyway—( Ad¬ 
dresses girls) You don’t know what it is. 

Vivian. Hot biscuits! I just dote on them! 

Lena. Better than that. 

Betty. Flapjacks ! My mouth is watering! 

Matilda. Better’n flapjacks! 

Lena. Well, more of a novelty. 

Alberta. Don’t tell me it’s anything to do with 
berries or I’ll shriek with delight! 

Lena. Well, you’ve partly guessed it. 

Bernice. ( Sniffing) I know. I can smell the 
juice sizzling. It’s a raspberry pie. 

Matilda. No, ’tain’t. It’s two raspberry pies; 
and Lena and I picked ’em ourselves. I picked 
a handful and she picked two^quarts. 

Lena. And Mr. Doyle, the milkman, is going 


38 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

to donate a pint of cream and says he only asks 
one little piece for pay. 

Bernice. Girls, did you ever see anything like 
it. She’s even enthralled the milkman ! 

Alberta. So sweet of you, Lena, to surprise 
us! Do you suppose there’ll be enough for two 
helpings apiece? 

Betty. I’m sure I don’t know what we’d all 
do without Lena. 

Vivian. Neither do I. Her pies are simply 
heavenly dreams! 

Lena. You’re just spoiling me with flattery, 
girls, but p’ease keep on. You don’t know what it 
means to me to feel you’ve really taken me in— 
made me one of yourselves. 

Laura. Why, you speak as if it were a new 
experience, being made to feel at home with girls! 

Lena. It is new—rather. There was always a 
governess before Mother died—never a chance to 
mix with other children. And then after she went 
we stayed in Germany for four long years. Sister 
liked it—she married over there—but I felt myself 
a sort of stranger. Sometimes I just fairly cried with 
longing to find myself in a good American school, 
with American boys and girls around me—and 
then, when we did come back and I entered the 
Senior Class at the Redfield Academy—why, why, 
just at first—( Hesitates ) 

Bernice. You might as well say it, Lena—we 
acted like little fiends toward you—all of us, I sup¬ 
pose because we didn’t like your German name. 
Brother Frank was the only one that seemed to 
have a particle of sense, and, speaking of Frank— 
here’s a postal from him. Listen, everybody! 

( Reads postal) “ Awfully busy at factory this 
week, but will try and make a trip out to see you 
in my car this afternoon. ( Significantly ) (jive my 
regards to the girls-” 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 39 


Laura. Mercy, I haven’t had a minute to crimp 
my hair! 

Bernice. ( Continuing) “—especially Lena.” 

Laura. But after all it doesn’t matter whether 
one crimps one’s hair out here or not. 

Betty. Frank Olcutt has had eyes for only one 
of us ever since the night of the Senior Reception. 

Laura. To which he almost invited me, then 
forgot all about it. 

Betty. Look out that Mr. Walters doesn’t get 
fascinated by her, too, Laura. He does a mighty 
lot of looking at her when you aren’t noticing. 

Lena. Girls, please don’t! You mean it all in 
fun I know, but—I’m not used to such joking. It 
makes me feel uncomfortable. Frank Olcutt is 
just a friend of mine, the same as he’s a friend to 
all of us. He comes over to camp because Bernice 
is here, and- 

Vivian. And because he especially likes berry- 
pies, I suppose. 

Lena. And as for Mr. Walters, that’s even more 
ridiculous. 

Laura. ( Drawling ) I wonder! 

Lena. Yes, and if you care to know more about 
it, Mr. Walters and I don’t even get along well 
together:—I—I actually dislike him. (In lighter 
tone, and as if ashamed of her emotion ) Bernice, 
if that letter’s for me, why don’t you hand it 
over? 

Bernice. Here you are. (Delivers letter) 
Elderly masculine handwriting—probably from a 
gray-haired man with a slight German accent. (Pats 
herself on the head) I congratulate you, Miss Sher¬ 
lock Holmes! That’s all, girls, except this news¬ 
paper for yours truly. 

Matilda. (As everybody settles down to read¬ 
ing letters) I’m goin’ to tell Ma nobody wrote 
her nothin’. (Skips off l.) 



4 o HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Bernice. (As she turns page of newspaper) 
Girls ! What do you think ? Here’s an article about 
Dad’s under-sea torpedo in the Times, with his pic¬ 
ture! (Omnes, except Lena, with exclamations of 
interest gather about Bernice to look at picture) 
Isn’t that stupendous? 

Alberta. Wonderful! It almost takes away my 
appetite. (Nibbles piece of chocolate-bar) 

Vivian. If any one of my family had invented 
anything to win this war, I should simply expire 
with delight! 

Bernice. Well, of course no one invention is 
going to win the war, but all the experts seem to 
think Daddy’s invention is going to help a lot. 
No wonder Frank thought it more worth while to 
work with him in the factory this summer than 
to go into camp with the other boys! Now, you 
blessed old dear, I’m going to tear your picture out 
and fasten it up on the wall for a decoration! 

Betty. Do, Bernice! It ought to inspire us in 
our Red Cross work. 

Laura. (To Lena as Bernice pins picturs to 
wall) Any bad news in your letter, Lena? 

Matilda. (Runs past outside door from l. to R.) 
Scat! Scat! You’re after our little chicks ! 

Lena. No, it’s from my father. 

Laura. I thought you looked rather pensive. 

Lena. I didn’t mean to do so. Father’s coming 
to pay the camp a little visit this afternoon. 

Bernice. Glorious! How can you take it so 
quietly? If I got word like that from my Dad, 
I’d turn handsprings and somersaults all over the 
place. 

Vivian. I suppose the calmness with which Lena 
takes things is just her way, but she misses a lot of 
thrills, and oh, I just love thrills! (A sound of 
breaking glass and the fall of a heavy body heard 
outside) Mercy, what’s that? 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 41 

Laura. A large-sized thrill from the sound of 
it. 

Buss. ( Heard outside) Great Scott—dropped it! 

Bernice. Why, that’s Blunderbuss! We might 
have known it. What’s the matter, I wonder ? 
(Omnes rise and move toward door) 

(Blunderbuss, in cadet uniform, his hat mashed 
and over one eye, enters at c. He carries a 
brown paper package the contents of which 
are dripping through.) 

Buss. ( Holds up package) Squashed and 
ruined! Just as I got to the door! 

Omnes. What was it? 

Buss. Two quarts of ice cream, some root beer 
and— (To Bernice) that extra big bottle of ink 
you wanted. 

Bernice. All in one bundle of course, I suppose! 
(Looks in package and gives exclamation of disgust) 
Such a sight! Look, girls! (Several girls look) 
Ice-cream with ground-glass and black-ink sauce ! 

Matilda. (Bounces in at c.) I saw him come a 
Hopper ! His feet flew away up ! 

Bernice. (Puts package into her hands) Tildy, 
put this into a pig-trough, after you’ve scraped out 
the glass. 

Matilda. The pigs’ll think it’s Fourth of July! 
(Exits with package at c.) 

Bernice. So endeth the first ice-cream we’ve had 
in camp. 

Alberta. I knew when I stepped on my looking- 
glass this morning something dreadful was going to 
happen. (To Buss, wistfully) Was it chocolate? 

Laura. (To Buss) How on earth did you come 
to lose your balance ? 

Buss. Why, I don’t know, unless it was that 
when I got in sight of the house I saw Tildy and 


42 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

thought for a minute it was—that is—she was—that 
she looked like—that she sort of bounced along 
like- 

Bernice. Don’t look at me, please—I never 
bounce. 

Buss. Anyhow I thought it was you. Hang it 
all! I wonder if I’ll ever stop being awkward and 
falling over my feet! 

Bernice. ( Kindly ) I’m sure you will, Buss. 
After you get to be an angel. They navigate with 
their wings, you know. 

(Omnes giggle at this to Buss’ great discomfiture) 

Lena. Girls, we haven’t any of us thanked Mr. 
Buss yet for trying to give us a treat, and I’m sure 
it was lovely of him. (Omnes remember and mur¬ 
mur words of thanks ad lib) 

Buss. Oh, I just thought that it might taste good 
for a change— (To Lena, who is putting on a shade - 
hat) What you getting on your hat for? Don’t 
you want to sit here and chin a while with a fellow 
that’s down on his luck? 

Lena. I’d like to very much, but I’m expecting 
my father and thought if I walked down the road 
I might meet him. But Bernice and the other girls 
will be glad to have you stay, I know. ( Exits c. and 

off L.) 

(Vivian saunters to door and looks off r.) 

Bernice. Oh, of course, Blunderbuss, we’ve no 
objection to your staying if you don’t fall down 
and break the floor. (Buss seats himself ruefully) 

Vivian. There’s Mr. Walters coming. In ordin¬ 
ary clothes as history professor I never thought 
he was much, but in uniform he’s just too immense 
for anything. 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 43 

Laura. ( Excitedly) Where’s my powder-book ? 
I know my nose shines like the face of the righteous. 
(Produces powder-book from pocket and powders 
nose) 

Buss. Walters makes me tired. Most of the 
cadet officers relax discipline outside of training 
hours, but not Walters. He likes the kowtowing. 

Betty. You speak as if you didn’t like cadet 
training. 

Buss. Oh, it’s all right enough, I suppose. A 
fellow can’t be too particular when he’s just hang¬ 
ing around hoping he’ll have the luck to get into a 
real camp. 


(Enter Walters c.) 

HONOR OF STARS & STRIPES GAL. 16 

Walters. Good afternoon, young ladies. 
(Omnes answer salutation. Buss springs up. 
Walters receives his salute with great solemnity) 
A little more form, Buss. ( Arrogantly) Shoul¬ 
ders up. Don’t sag. ( After a moment turns away) 

Laura. I’m so glad you’ve honored us with a 
visit, Mr. Walters. 

Vivian. So am I. I want to ask your advice 
about these hospital socks I’m knitting- 

Walters. (With scarcely a glance at than) 
Good work! Very good. As a military man my 
advice is quite at your disposal. 

Laura. Do take this rocking-chair. I’m sure 
you must be tired. 

Walters. ( Accepts chair) I am—rather. 

Laura. I’m afraid you’ve been overdoing your¬ 
self. 

Vivian. We all think it’s just noble—your giv¬ 
ing your time this summer to the Redfield Cadets. 

Walters. I am very glad indeed in company 
with other patriots to do my bit for my country. 



44 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Unfortunately a slight trouble with my eyes pre¬ 
vented my enlistment, so I had to find other ways 
of service. 

Matilda. ( Bounces in at c. Her mouth is 
stained with what looks like slightly diluted ink) 
Mr. Bergenfeld and Lena are coming down the 
hill! 

Bernice. Tildy! What did you do with that 
inky ice-cream! 

Matilda. ( Innocently ) Fed it to a pig. 

Bernice. ( Severely) Look at yourself in that 
mirror! ( Indicates mirror on wall at l.) 

Matilda. ( Does so. Covers mouth with hand) 
Just tasted it to see if there was any glass! ( Runs 

Off L.) 

(Mr. Bergenfeld and Lena appear at c.) 

Bergenfeld. Good afternoon, my friends. 

Bernice. Come right in, Mr. Bergenfeld. We’re 
all delighted to see you. 

Vivian. I should say so, when you’re the man 
that gave that darling wonderful flag to the Red- 
field Cadets! 

Bernice. Of course you know Buss— (Bergen¬ 
feld shakes hands with Buss) and I presume you 
know our teacher, Mr. Walters- 

Bergenfeld. I believe I have met Mr. Walters 
—once. ( Shakes hands formally with Walters) 

Mrs. Scrovins. ( Enters at l. followed by 
Matilda, zvho is still wiping the stains from her 
mouth on her apron) Excuse me, please, for in¬ 
terrupting any conversation, but I have to have some 
help washing up tins if we’re to have any more 
meals cooked in this house on account of having 
only one pair of hands, though my husband used 
to say they were very capable, as isn’t commonly the 
case with blue eyes, though mine not being so very 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 45 

blue when a baby but turning later, much to mother’s 
disappointment who would have preferred brown 
she being one of a large family of ten children six 
boys, three blondes and one brunette who was 
the image of myself both having the same tendency 
to colds and dying of tonsilitis when a mere in¬ 
fant— 

Matilda. Ma means the other baby died, not 
her! 

Mrs. Scrovins. Of course, child, which was 
exactly what I was saying in plain English, and- 

Bernice. Pardon me for interrupting, Mrs. 
Scrovins, but I want Mr. Bergenfeld to meet our 
housekeeper and chaperone—He’s Lena’s father. 

Mrs. Scrovins. (As Bergenfeld bows) Well* 
you don’t say so S And what must your feelings 
be to stand in a fatherly connection to the sweetest 
young woman in the world, and hoping my own 
Tildy will grow up the same, though my dear hus¬ 
band that always carried me around on his hands 
used to say—“ A woman’s emotions ain’t a man’s.” 
which is or was the reason why he was opposed to 
Woman’s Suffrage, though to my mind and not 
being in favor of picketing the White House there’s 
arguments on both sides, and I hope your sweet 
daughter shows you around the establishment not 
forgetting the jelly, and the squalling creatures out¬ 
side which more than eat their heads off, and I’m 
sure Mr Bergenfeld will agree with me, I don’t care 
what Mr. Hoover says. 

Bergenfeld. What creatures outside? I do not 
understand. 

Matilda. Ma means little pigs. We’ve got six 
and the mother. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Which is exactly what I said in 
plain English, and I hope the young ladies take you 
out to the pens to see them, there being nothing men 
are more interested in than pigs unless it is the fe- 





46 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

male sex, which is something I’ve never been able 
to understand or explain, but as my dear husband 
used to say- 

Lena. (Trying to stop the flow of conversation ) 
Did you say you wanted some one to help wash up 
the tins, Mrs. Scrovins? 

Mrs. Scrovins. (Continues unheedingiy) 
“ There’s no accounting for tastes,” and these pigs 
not being ordinary on account of the young ladies 
bringing them up and having almost human intelli¬ 
gence— 

Matilda. Ma means the pigs have human intelli¬ 
gence, she don’t mean the young ladies have. 

Lena. (Who has been gradually drawing Mrs. 
Scrovins tozvard door l.) I’ll be glad to do my 
share right now. 

Mrs. Scrovins. (Back over her shoulder as she 
reaches door l.) Which is exactly what I was say¬ 
ing, Tildy, and— (Lena gets her off at l. gently 
but firmly and follows her) 

Bergenfeld. (To Bernice) When your house¬ 
keeper has the so-fast conversation my brain cannot 
keep on the track of it. That is a joke what she has 
said about the pigs? 

Omnes. Oh, no! 

Walters. ( With veiled sarcasm) Allow me to 
elucidate. Each of these lovely young ladies is 
highly patriotic. Each is a fervent disciple of a cer¬ 
tain gentleman named Hoover, upon whom is de¬ 
volving the task of preventing food scarcity in Am¬ 
erica. Each of these ladies, therefore, is proving 
her devotion to the cause by raising a pig to be 
sacrificed upon the butcher’s block as an affecting 
tribute to her country. (Takes drink from dipper 
in pail) 

Bergenfeld. Each gives a pig as tribute to An'i- 
erica? That is interesting. 

Buss. Stuffing the pig one day and starving it 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 47 

the next; so the bacon will have one streak of fat 
and one of lean. 

Bernice. Mine is a dignified dear, and Pve 
named him Sir Francis Drake! 

Betty. I call mine Lizzie. 

Vivian. Mine’s Esmeralda. I once knew the 
sweetest country girl named Esmeralda, so I thought 
it would be an exquisitely appropriate name for a 
Pig- 

Alberta. I call mine Pure Food! 

Matilda. But I like Cleopatra the best of any 
of ’em ’cause she’s got the kinkiest tail! 

Mrs. Scrovins. ( Calling from off l.) Tildy! 

Matilda. Yes, Ma, I’m cornin’. ( Runs off l.) 

Bernice. (To Mr. Bergenfeld, who has been 
standing before her father's picture examining it 
intently) Don’t you admire our wall decorations, 
Mr. Bergenfeld? Each girl has a certain space 
to fill in as she likes, and this is mine. 

Bergenfeld. (His tone kind to the point of 
flattery ) Your good father, eh? Inventor of the 
wonderful Olcutt Torpedo, which the newspapers 
anrounce may prove America’s most powerful wea¬ 
pon against the submarine. I am much interested 
in your father’s invention. He has the great brain, 
eh ? 

Bernice. (With great pride) Brain? I should 
say so. Frank and I are so proud of him, it’s all 
we can do to keep from spoiling him. 

Bergenfeld. It is not treating him with respect 
that the papers give so little space to such a big 
Lvention^-they should honor him with a whole page. 

Bernice. Oh, they’d be glad to do that, and 
print pictures of it and everything, but it would be 
against Daddy’s express orders, you know. 

Bergenfeld. Yes? 

Bernice. Because there’s always danger that 
the Germans—the wicked Germans, I mean—would 


48 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

get hold of it. Father’s just daffy on keeping mum. 
Why, even my brother who works right in the fac¬ 
tory with him doesn’t know the secret of his in¬ 
vention—the thing that makes it better than other 
torpedoes, you know. 

Bergenfeld. ( Playfully ) But you, little shin¬ 
ing eyes, may coax it from him some day just for 
fun, as they say, to get the better of your brother, 
eh? 

(Lena enters at l. ; immediately she shows intense 
interest in the conversation .) 

Bernice. ( Amused at the idea) That would be 
a joke on Frank, all right. 

Bergenfeld. Come over here, my Lena. (Lena 
crosses to his side, but looks worried and uneasy as 
the conversation progresses) Ah, these daugh¬ 
ters with their smiles and their coaxing ways—what 
cannot they find out from a father if they try? They 
have us at their mercy—and the worst of it is— 
we are pleased at last to tell them any secret they 
may want to know. 

Bernice. Oh, I’ve found out one secret already, 
and that without trying at all. 

Bergenfeld. What—a secret concerning the big 
torpedo ? 

Bernice. Well—sort of concerning it—yes. 

Bergenfeld. No ! 

Laura. Oh, yes, Mr. Bergenfeld, that’s right! 
Bernice. knows one real war secret which she has 
managed to keep to herself in spite of all our teas¬ 
ing. 

Betty. She’s been lording it over the rest of 
us girls ever since we’ve been in camp on account of 
it. 

Vivian. We’ve bet her five boxes of candy that 
she couldn’t keep it from us until the camp broke 
up, but it looks as if we were going to lose. 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 49 

Bergenfeld. ( Making light of it in his heavy 
German way) But of course it is nothing import¬ 
ant—just big enough to make a joke about. 

Bernice. That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Ber¬ 
genfeld. It’s so important Daddy’d be scared to 
death if he realized I knew it, because he imagines 
I can’t keep anything to myself. And just think—* 
I learned it by accident! 

Bergenfeld. ( Still with attempted lightness ) 
That is interesting, child, but an important secret 
can hardly be found out by accident. 

Bernice. ( Wishing to he taken seriously) I 
don’t like to contradict you, Mr. Bergenfeld, but this 
secret is very important indeed. I can tell you this 
much—-just as I’ve already told the girls:—it’s the 
pass-word that admits the workmen into the last 
room where the torpedoes are put together. There’s 
only a dozen men allowed in there—all Russians, 
who can hardly speak a word of English, and be¬ 
cause they all look alike the watchman might make a 
mistake and admit a stranger, so they had to give 
them a special pass-word. That’s my secret—that 
pass-word ! I overheard Daddy telling brother Frank 
what it was, but wild horses couldn’t drag it out of 
me. 

Bergenfeld. And you have not confided the 
secret to even one of your trusted schoolmates? 

Bernice. ( Proudly ) No, not even to Lena— 
and I’d trust Lena with just anything on earth—ex¬ 
cept a war secret! I wouldn’t trust one of those 
to an angel in heaven. 

Lena. ( Uneasily, as Bergenfeld is about to in¬ 
terrogate Bernice further) Father, wouldn’t you 
like to take a walk to the summit of the hill ? You 
can see into the next county from there—miles and 
miles! 

Bergenfeld. What ? While I am being so kindly 
entertained by your good little friend? 


50 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 
(Enter Mrs. Scrovins at l.) 

Mrs. Scrovins. (Matilda enters in the midst 
of Mrs. Scrovins"' remarks) And I hope you’ll 
all excuse me for interrupting, it not being a thing 
I do as a rule, knowing exactly my place as a house¬ 
keeper and general helper, although it not being the 
station I ever was intended to occupy when I was 
married as a mere child and my hair put up for 
the first time as I was led to the altar, but now the 
occasion seems to demand it, the fence being far 
from what a fence should be, and the capers of Sir 
Francis Drake along with Esmeralda and Pure 
Food- 

Matilda. Ma means the pigs have broke out and 
are runnin’ over the garden. 

Betty. Mercy me ! Why didn’t you say so be¬ 
fore? ( Exit at c. Betty, Laura, Alberta and 
Vivian, each calling the name of her particular 
pig. Matilda and Mrs. Scrovins follow them) 

Bernice. ( To Buss) No use chasing those 
pigs. They’ll take to the woods and we’ll never 
find them again. 

Buss. It’s turkeys that take to the woods. Don’t 
be scared—with my long legs we’ll round ’em up 
all right. 

Bernice. All right, then—come on! (Exits c.) 

Buss. Come on, Walters. 

Walters. ( Stiffly) As I have remarked be¬ 
fore, a private does not address his superior officer 
informally. 

Buss. Oh, chuck that and come on! 

Walters. And an officer does not chase pigs. 

/ Buss. Then stay there, but if you weren’t my 
superior officer, I have an opinion I’d like to express 
about you. ( Exits c.) 

Bergenfeld. I see you have enjoyed yourself 
here, my daughter. It is the best of all that you 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 51 

have made the other young ladies your friends. 
That is what I did expect of you. 

Lena. I want to see you, Father—alone. 

Walters. What did I tell you, Mr. Bergenfeld? 
Your daughter always finds some pretext for get¬ 
ting rid of me. Well, Pm off! (Starts for door 

c.) 

Bergenfeld. No, stay! (Walters turns and 
hesitates ) We do not wish to leave Mr. Walters 
out of our conversation, eh, daughter? Good, kind 
Mr. Walters who is our friend and the friend of 
Germany ? 

Lena. Germany pays him in gold for his friend¬ 
ship, Father. Then why should you always expect 
me to feel so—so—grateful to him? 

Walters. That’s the stand she’s taken toward 
me from the start, and I tell you, Mr. Bergenfeld, 
it’s not very pleasant. 

Bergenfeld. I am surprised at you, Lena—you 
have never spoken out like this against any wish 
of your father’s before. And you will turn a new 
leaf over in the future. Mr. Walters is not alone 
that he works for the reward of gold. Everybody 
in this America works for gold. They dream of it 
by night and scheme for it by day. What is Am¬ 
erica’s part in the war but the stratagem of moneyed 
men to get more gold ? And is it not better to work 
for gold for the cause that is right—for Germany? 
than to work for gold and the wrong as this whole 
country is doing? And Mr. Walters should be paid 
not only in money, but in our faithful friendship 
also. Do you understand me? 

Lena. I—I’ll try to regard him differently. 

Father. 

Walters. Thank you, Mr. Bergenfeld, for set¬ 
ting me right. 

Lena. I wish you’d take me back to town with 
you, Father. I don’t want to stay here any longer. 


52 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Bergenfeld. The time for that is not yet. Have 
you not been happy? 

Lena. Too happy—happier than I had any right 
to be. The girls have been so good to me, and it’s 
been so jolly and pleasant, I’ve just given myself up 
to the enjoyment of it all—to the only young care¬ 
free days I ever had in my life. I almost forgot 
I was winning their friendship for a purpose—that 
there would be a price I’d have to pay for every 
one of those happy hours. But your letter brought 
it all back—when you asked me what I had been 
able to do for Germany. Well, I’ve done nothing so 
far, I confess it. I’ve only won a confidence I do 
not deserve. 

Bergenfeld. Be not discouraged. Confidence 
is the foundation for much—for everything it is 
plain before me you shall do. 

Lena. You —you mean you have a special and 
definite task for me? 

Bergenfeld. Yes, you can be of great service 
to the Fatherland if your pink and white face does 
not betray the heart temperament too easily. 

Lena. Oh, Father, before you ask it of me— 
before you tell me what it is you expect of me—I 
must know if you are sure, very sure. Germany is 
in the right! Why, since I’ve been here ir camp, 
Tve heard so many stories of revolting cruelty— 
atrocities terrible beyond speech- 

Bergenfeld. Such reports are to be expected 
in a place like this, but they are lies—I have told 
you that before—all lies! You believe me, do you 
not? 

Lena. I did believe you, Father, and I must 
keep on believing you, or even my love for you, 
even my respect for your authority could not keep 
me from turning against Germany and all she stands 
for. Why, they say she is determined to dominate 
the world through her very frightfulness 1 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 53 


Bergenfeld. To dominate the world—yes—but 
through the highest motives of right and justice. To 
dominate the world because already the Germans 
are a race of supermen—because already their civil¬ 
ization is the finest, because “ Deutschland Uber 
Alles ” means the welfare of all mankind. Ah, you 
have only the woman-brain—you cannot see the big 
vision as I do, but remember your faithful sister 
whose husband is a loyal subject of the Kaiser— 
remember the grandchild who is a fine little German 
—and be true ! 

Lena. My sister—little Rudolph—yes, my love 
is with them! What do you want me to do, Father? 

Bergenfeld. Something that would be very 
simple. Obtain from the little chatterbox friend 
the pass-word that admits the Russian workmen to 
her father’s factory. It is the thing we have been 
working for—an entrance to the heart of it. 

Lena. But why? What do you want to do? 

Bergenfeld. There, there, don’t look so fright¬ 
ened ! We will not go to the extreme—no bombs— 
no blowing up- 

Lena. Oh, I’m so relieved, Father, to hear you 
say that! My heart was right in my throat. You 
know I’d not consent—I couldn’t—to anything that 
risked human life. War or no war, that wou'd 
mean murder! 

Walters. Sh! Not so loud. You see—all I 
want is to carry in my camera and get some pictures 
of the machinery. 

Bergenfeld. Pictures to be sent to Germany. 
With only such small aid to guide them, the master 
minds there would find a way to combat the new 
danger, or to turn it to uses of their own. 

Lena. (To Walters) Will you give me your 
word of honor that if I succeed in getting 
the pass-word for you, it will mean bodily harm 
to no one? 



54 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Walters. No one unless it be myself—my 
word of honor! Til be taking as big chances if 
caught with my camera as if I were stuck down 
in one of those stinking French trenches when a 
gas attack was on. 

Bergenfeld. It is for you to get the pass-word 
at once, Lena. Every hour increases the danger 
against Germany. 

Lena. Of course, try as I may, there is a 
chance it will be impossible- 

Bergenfeld. Impossible is a word we Germans 
do not bow to in recognition. 

Lena. I’ll try my best, Father, but you must 
realize the suffering it’s going to cost me. Bernice 
is my friend—it will be betraying her, betraying 
her brother Frank- 

Walters. Now we’re coming to the ground¬ 
work of it a 1 1! I told you she thought too much of 
young Olcutt. 

Bergenfeld. Nonsense, it is but a silly boy-and- 
girl friendship! 

Lena. At least, Father, you will let me go away 
from here after I have succeeded? I can’t stay 
and be a hypocrite. I must say good-bye to Ber¬ 
nice and her brother—forever. 

Bergenfeld. Yes, yes, you shall then come 
away, and for the friends you give up there will be 
others. 

Walters. Your daughter need never lack for 
attention, if that’s what she’s thinking of, and from 
those that stand considerably higher than young 
Olcutt. 

Bergenfeld. The next time Mr. Walters comes 
to the house, you will be kinder, eh, my daughter? 

Lena. Why not? After I have tricked and de¬ 
ceived the Oicutts, what difference will anything 
make? ( Begins to laugh hysterically—her laugh¬ 
ter turns to sobs and she rushes out of doors) 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 55 


Bergenfeld. She will be different in time, very 
different. My word in my family is law. 

Walters. Well, I hope so. It humiliates a man 
to have the girl he admires treat him like the dirt 
under her feet. 

Bergenfeld. She will give you the smile of wel¬ 
come in future. 

Walters. If she doesn’t, it wouldn’t be beyond 
me to throw up my job. 

Bergenfeld. What’s that? 

Walters. I say if it happens that you can’t get 
Lena to be friends with me after all- 

Bergenfeld. ( Sternly ) Whether that turns 
out one way or the other, there must be no more 
talk of your giving up the job or I will take you 
at your word—and then what? 

Walters. Well, of course—I spoke hastily. 

Buss. ( Rushes in at c.) Where’s that clothes¬ 
line? ( Runs into Walters and almost knocks him 
over. Grabs a coil of rope hanging np by the door) 
Excuse me, but Sir Francis Drake has started for 
the Pacific, and I’m after him. ( Exits at c. run- 
nina into Vivian as she enters) 

Vivian. Esmeralda keeps running round and 
round in a circle and I know she’ll wind up with 
vertigo. Oh, Mr. Walters, would you mind help¬ 
ing me? 

Walters. Well, it isn’t exactly in my line, 
but- 

Vivian. Oh, please! ( Takes him by arm and 
he unwillingly goes zvith her out at c.) 

Bergenfeld. (At door) Lena! 

Lena. (Heard off) Yes, Father. (In a moment 
she appears at c. Dries her eyes and smoothes back 
her hair) I’m all right now. 

Bergenfeld. You must not allow yourself to 
lose your wits even for a moment, for in that 
moment your chance may come and go. And I 




56 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

want you to remember about this young Olcutt - 
that he is an enemy to your country. 

Lena. I know—in my thoughts I have already 
given him up. 

Bergenfeld. Keep the mind only on the one 
duty—to obtain the pass-word from the little chat¬ 
terbox. Hard or easy, it must be done. 

Bernice. (Entering at c.) Such a race!, T 
don’t know that I’ll ever see Blunderbuss or Sir 
Francis Drake again. Mr. Bergenfeld, I hope you 
don’t think we’re always as undignified as we are 
to-day. 

Bergenfeld. I have enjoyed my visit very much 
and am glad to say so before I go. 

Bernice. Oh, you aren’t going so soon, are you? 
Please stay! Lena has made the most delectable 
pie for supper you ever tasted! 

Bergenfeld. Unfortunately the very small mot¬ 
or-car which I have hired by the hour is waiting 
for me at the foot of the hill, also I have an objec¬ 
tion to driving it in the dark. 

Bernice. And I just love to drive in the dark, 
only Papa and Frank have a feeling that I shouldn’t. 
Sometimes I think Pd rather be a wax figure in 
a show-window than just a girl. Wax figures can’t 
have any burning emotions about being watched 
over and guarded from danger against their wills 
the way I have. 

Bergenfeld. Well, I will say Auf Wiedersehen. 

Bernice. Good-bye, Mr. Bergenfeld. You’ll 
excuse me if I put it into American, for while I 
know you’re perfectly loyal and all that, anything 
German just now- 

Bergenfeld. Your patriotism does you credit. 
So too will I say—good-bye. And to my daughter 
good-bye also. (Kisses Lena on forehead) And 
you will not forget to do your work quickly and 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 57 


with faithfulness. (Steps just outside door with 
Lena) 

Bernice. (Calls after him) She always does 
that without being told. 

Bergenfeld. I hope you are right. (Nods and 
smiles and walks away . Lena stands for a moment 
looking after him. Bernice crosses to l. and looks 
at herself in the big glass) 

Bernice. (As Lena re-enters at c.) Pm a 
perfect sight from chasing those pesky pigs. But 
I suppose there’s nothing to do but just go back 
to it again. (She takes hand-glass from a drawer 
and looks in mirror at back of her head, then lays 
hand-glass on top of desk) 

Lena. No, don’t do that. Sit down. We 
haven’t had a real comfy chat for a long time, have 
we, dear? 

Bernice. (Sits down on couch beside Lena) 
Not for ages! 

Lena. Let’s be real chummy and tell each other 
some secrets. 

Bernice. Secrets? (Excitedly) Why, Lena, do 
you mean that you and Frank have become enga—? 

Lena. (Interrupts, hastily) No, no, nothing 
like that. I mean just—anything—real interesting 
we know that we haven’t yet told anybody else. 
Sometimes I think it’s a—a relief telling somebody 
else—don’t you? 

Bernice. Well, you tell yours first. 

Lena. Well, mine is that—that I’m going to 
leave camp in a day or two instead of staying on 
another month as all the girls expect. 

Bernice. Oh, I’m awfuly sorry to hear that. I 
suppose your father’s visit hadn’t anything to do 
with it. Hm ? 

Lena. Yes. Now it’s your turn. 

Bernice. Well, I never had but one real secret 
in my life, and that’s the pass-word to that torpedo- 


$8 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

room. But of course I’d be drawn and quartered 
before I told that to you or anyone else. 

Lena. But suppose I guessed it? 

Bernice. Lena! What on earth are you talk¬ 
ing about? 

Lena. I don’t wonder you ask, Bernice, but 
I’ve been reading such an interesting book lately on 
telepathy and thought-transference— (At a loss 
hozv to proceed) er—do you believe in telepathy? 

Bernice. Mercy, don’t ask me such embar¬ 
rassing questions! Don’t even know what telep¬ 
athy means. But I’m sure that even if I did I 
wouldn’t believe in it. I never believe in things 
that have a lot of syllables—they worry my head. 

Lena. Oh, but you’d like the book I’m telling 
you about. It gives the most interesting experi¬ 
ments you can imagine. For instance, suppose 
you put your mind on a certain word that has been 
in your thought, lately, and keep it there- 

Bernice. That wouldn’t be hard—that old 
pass-word just haunts me! 

Lena. And then write it down a few times just 
for further concentration- 

(Enter Betty, VivIan, Alberta and Laura, all 
shrieking with laughter.) 

Betty. (Finally recovering her breath) Oh, 
save me, or I shall laugh myself to death! 

Vivian. And when Mr. Walters is so digni¬ 
fied! (Laughs again) 

Laura. And to think it was sweet country 
Esmeralda that did the trick! 

Bernice. Did what trick, girls? What are you 
laughing about? 

(Lena has crossed to desk in front of big slanting 
mirror at l. While other girls are occupied 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 59 


with the joke, she picks up an envelope to 
look at address as reflected in mirror. Then 
she lays it on desk and takes hand-glass and 
turns her back on mirror as if to straighten 
her hair. Shows she is trying to read super¬ 
scription on envelope by looking into small 
mirror and catching thus the reflected image 
of the envelope in the big mirror. This is 
done very unostentatiously so the girls do not 
remark the experiment at all. She lays glass 
down again after the girls address her.) 

Vivian. At poor Mr. Walters! He was do¬ 
ing his best to help me, you know, and keep his 
uniform immaculate at the same time, and just as 
he came within falling distance of the most 
heavenly mud-puddle—( Girls shriek with laughter 
again) Esmeralda ran between his legs and 
tripped him up. He sat down perfectly flat. You 
can imagine! 

Betty. Even Laura’s devotion wasn’t proof 
against the spectacle he made as he picked himself 
up! 

Bernice. Oh, why did I miss it? ( Laughs) 

Betty. Lena, you haven’t even smiled! 

Lena. Perhaps because I was absorbed in think¬ 
ing of an experiment Bernice and I were about 
to try just as you came in—an experiment in telep¬ 
athy. 

Betty. ( With enthusiasm) Do go on with it! 
Don t let us interrupt. I started to read a book 
on telepathy once, but didn’t finish it. 

Vivian. Can’t we be in on the experiment too? 
Oh, I think anything mental is just too weirdly 
fascinating for expression! 

Lena. I don’t believe it could be managed with 
so many— (As if with a new thought) though, 
after all, perhaps it can. Bernice, you sit over 


6 o HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


here by the desk and the rest of us will stand 
a short distance away from you with our backs 
turned! 

Bernice. (Seats herself at desk. Girls ar¬ 
range themselves in a semi-circle and turn their 
hacks) All right. What next? 

Lena. Now you take that soft pencil there— 
we haven't any ink—and write large and clear to 
help your concentration some word of great import¬ 
ance to you for us to read from your mind. We’ll 
say—a word like—( Pauses as if trying to think) 

Vivian. Blunderbuss! 

Bernice. He's not important. 

Lena. Well—er— say the password you were 
talking about. (She picks up the hand-mirror and 
holds it down at her side unseen by others) 

Bernice. But I’d rather not write that. 

Alberta. She’s afraid of giving us girls a 
chance to win those boxes of candy. 

Lena. (With carefully studied though pleas¬ 
ant sarcasm ) Oh, of course if you are afraid— 
(Pauses) 

Bernice. But I’m not. If there’s one thing on 
earth that makes me mad it is for Blunderbuss or 
other people to think I’m afraid of anything. Til 
write the password big and strong. I^don’t think 
there’s “ no sech animal ” as Telepathy anyhow. 
Of course you’re all on your honor not to turn 
around ? 

Lena. (Who stands nearest to Bernice) Of 
course. (Turns her hack ) Now you write the 
word, then sit with your eyes fixed upon it while 
each of us tries to guess it. As soon as any girl 
thinks she’s got it, she’s to speak out! Ready 
now—write! 

(Bernice writes. Lena apparently arranging hair 
over her forehead ' carefully moves hand-glass 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 61 


until she catches the reflection of the zvord from 
reflection in large mirror. Then she lowers 
glass again. Vivian giggles) 

Alberta. Stop giggling. I almost had some¬ 
thing, and you stopped it! 

Betty. Sh! ’Tisn’t fair to talk. 

(A short silence.) 

Lena. ( Slowly) I do get an impression of 

something—the name of a state. 

Bernice. Why, Lena, that’s perfectly wonder¬ 
ful ! Which state? 

Lena. Florida. 

(Omnes turn around.) 

Vivian. Has she guessed it? 

Betty. Do tell us! 

Bernice. She almost took my breath away, 
she came so near, but she didn’t get it after all. 
Oh, I’m so relieved! My goodness, I don’t know 
what I ever chose that particular word for any¬ 
how, because if she really had guessed it- 

Lena. Well, a miss is as good as a mile! 

Betty. And it was awfully interesting, though 
the only word I could think of to save my life 
was “ pigs.” 

Alberta. Isn’t it nearly supper time? 

Bernice. Mercy, I hope not yet! Girls, let’s 
all get our bathing-suits and go down to the pool 
to freshen up. Come on, Lena. 

Lena. No, I—I’m feeling a little tired, so I 
won’t go this time. 

Bernice. (Tears up name she has written and 
throws it in zvaste-basket) Well, if you change 
your mind you’ll know where to. find us. ( Exits 
r. singing “Over There” in which Betty, Laura 
and Vivian join as they follow her) 



62 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Lena. ( Left alone. Speaks in intense whis¬ 
per) “ Nevada! ” Oh, father—I—now that Eve 
done it—( She drops her head on the desk and 
begins to cry) 

Olcutt. ( Appears in door c.) Lena! 

Lena. Oh—( Starts up and dries her eyes has¬ 
tily) 

Olcutt. Why, what’s the matter? What has 
happened to upset you? 

Lena. Nothing—much— I — I didn’t know any¬ 
one had come in. 

Olcutt. I know—the little girl’s homesick! 

Lena. Yes, that’s it. I want to go home—to 
get away from here. 

Olcutt. Have the girls been unkind to you 
again ? 

Lena. No, no, you mustn’t think that. 

Olcutt. Nevertheless, I’ll speak to Bernice. 

Lena. But it isn’t Bernice—it isn’t anybody. 
Bernice has just gone down to the swimming-pool. 
Shan’t I call her back? ( Starts toward door c.) 

Olcutt. No, don’t call her back. Why, I’ve 
been aching for a chance to talk with you alone. 
I wanted you to be the first to hear some important 
news—that is, important to me. 

Lena. News? What about? 

Olcutt. Cast your eye upon America’s future 
foremost aviator. 

Lena. You mean you’ve—enlisted? 

Olcutt. This morning, in the aviation branch 
of the service. Next week—at the latest— I quit 
Dad’s factory to go into training. 

Lena. That means you’re on the American 
side forever, doesn’t it? 

Olcutt. Of course. It would have meant that 
even if I’d stayed on at the factory. Well, aren’t 
you going to congratulate me? 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 63 

Lena. Yes. yes, of course—only—I thought 
you were needed at the factory. 

Olcutt. At first it did seem my duty to stay 
there, but things are running now so well Dad 
can get along without me. And he seemed to 
know how hard hit I’d be if the war ended without 
my having had a whack at it. He’s pretty won¬ 
derful. Dad is. He didn't put up the ghost of a 
yell about how bad he'd feel if his only son—well, 
you know there is a big risk, but all lie said was: 
** I’ll be proud to give you for your countrv. boy.” 
You see. one has to serve his country. 

Lena. Yes, I know. One has to serve his 
country—no matter how great the cost! ( After a 
slight pause) It will be hard—for Bernice to 
see you go. 

Olcutt. The dear old kid!—I suppose so. But 
somehow I wasn’t thinking much of Bernice as 
I came along, but of another girl. I suppose 
when a chap knows the chances are about even 
that he never comes back, he hasn’t any right to 
ask a girl to wait for him, but at the same time the 
thought that maybe she was waiting and thinking 
of him—Lena! 

Lena. Oh. please—you mustn't! It’s time you 
realized that I'm not one of you Americans after 
a!!, that I can't ever be. You mustn’t ask me—* 
anything. 

Olcutt. That’s all nonsense about your not 
being American. But if you mean I Ye been mis¬ 
taken, and that you don’t care for me— (She turns 
or cay — silent) Lena. I don't believe it. I know! 
It’s your father. He’s developed some secret prej¬ 
udice against me—thinks I’m a slacker maybe? 

Lena. No, please don’t think that. I’m doing 
this of my own free will. Every girl is apt to 
change her mind—and I’ve changed mine. 

Olcutt. So suddenly? Why, Lena, that 


64 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

doesn’t seem possible. The understanding be¬ 
tween us began back there the night of the Senior 
Reception. You remember that walk home in the 
moonlight and how I covered your little hand 
with mine as it rested there on my arm—and ever 
since then, Lena- 

Lena. ( Harshly, to cover her emotion ) What’s 
the use talking about what is past and gone? 

Olcutt. You’ve grown to like someone better ? 
Is that the answer? Is it your memory of some 
other man that has come between us? 

Lena. Yes, the memory of some other man. 

Olcutt. Walters? 

Lena. I—I—my father approves of him. 

(Olcutt, with an inarticulate expression of dis¬ 
tress turns azvay and covers his face with his 
hands .) 

Lena. I’m sorry to have hurt you. 

Olcutt. I’ll be over it in a minute. What 
was it Dad said? “A soldier has to learn to take 
hard blows without wincing.” But sometimes a 
chap forgets he’s a soldier and wants to blubber 
instead like a kid. ( Recovering ) I’m all right, 
now, though. Lena, I won’t be a hypocrite and 
try to say pleasant things about Walters—you 
know I never liked him. And of course I’ve got 
to return it—that snapshot I took of you the morn¬ 
ing of the Senior Reception. 

Lena. I’d forgotten all about that snap-shot. 

Olcutt. (Takes some green cards from a 
wallet and shuffles through them) It’s here some¬ 
where among these new green cards—cards of ad¬ 
mission to Dad’s factory. By the way, the paper 
can’t be duplicated, and each one carries Dad’s 
own signature. Of course they won’t take the 
place of the password until each blooming Rus- 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 65 

sian inserts his own name which will be sometime 
before sundown when I get back- 

Lena. Those cards take the place of the pass¬ 
word, you say? 

Olcutt. Yes, we’ve abolished the pass-word 
System. 

Lena. Since when? 

Olcutt. This morning. 

Lena. Absolutely? 

Olcutt. Absolutely—yes. This plan is safer. 
Dad was afraid some one might pump one of 
those guileless Russians. The word was rather 
simple—“Nevada”—and—( Comes upon the snap¬ 
shot) Here’s your picture! ( Holds it on top of 
several cards in his hand) 

Lena. That? ( Reaches out for picture ayid as 
if by accident knocks the cards from his hands) 
Oh, excuse me! How clumsy I am! 

Olcutt. That’s nothing. I’ll pick them up. 
(.Before he can stoop to pick up the cards, Lena 
puts her foot on one of them, concealing it. Ol¬ 
cutt, gathering up remainder of cards, restores 
them to his pocket. The snap-shot is in his hand 
and he studies it earnestly) Here you are, with 
that smile and that half-frightened look in your 
eyes that used to make me want to defend you 
against the universe in general and everybody in 
particidar. After all, it won’t hurt Walters for 
me to have it. I never sympathized before with 
the chap that said half a loaf was better than no 
bread at all, but now I do. 

Lena. It would give you pleasure to keep it? 

Olcutt. Yes, because that would mean we’re 
still friends—and somehow even your friendship 
will be a mighty pleasant thought to me when I’m 
sailing around up there in the blue sky—and if I 
don’t come back- 

Lena. Don’t speak about not coming back. 


66 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Olcutt. That slipped out by accident As 
Dad says—a soldier hasn’t any right to turn on 
the sob-stuff—it doesn’t do any good. We’ll say 
—when I come back, I’ll still be thinking of you 
as my friend—even if Walters has a prior claim. 
So—may I take the picture along with me? 

Lena. Yes, and I want to say again how sorry 
I am to have caused you any unhappiness- 

Walters. Now, don’t fuss about me—I’m tak¬ 
ing it all right. And remember—whatever hap¬ 
pens—you’re always going to be my friend. 

Lena. (As he takes her hand) Yes, your 
friend—always. 

Olcutt. (Breaks away• with an effort) Well, 
I’m off. (Whistles a military air as he exits c.) 

Lena. (Looks after him) Your friend—your 
false, false friend! (Steps off card and picks it 
up) 

Walters. (Appears just outside c. from R. and 
looks off l. after Olcutt) Whistle away, old 
chap, but you may change your tune before long. 

Lena. (Startled at his timely appearance) 
You! 

Walters. (Enters at c.) Yes, it’s I. I had to 
duck into the training quarters and change clothes 
after being made a fool of by those silly girls and 
their pig-chasing, but I dropped in again to say that 
as soon as you’ve made any discoveries worth 
while- 

Lena. (Without enthusiasm) I have made 
them—already. 

Walters. What? Did you get the pass-word? 

Lena. (Rapidly) The pass-word isn’t used now 
—they’ve issued special cards of admission instead. 
There’s one of them. Never mind how I got it. 
It’s signed by Jonathan Olcutt himself. All you 
have to do is to fill in with the workman’s name 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 67 


you’ve decided on, and use your wits for the rest 
of it. 

Walters. (Examines card she has given him) 
Whv. you’re a marvel! This is fine! Couldn’t 
be better. 

Lena. ( Hand to throat—staggers slightly) Oh, 
I’m smothered! 

Walters. Reaction, that’s all. You’ve been 
under a terrible strain to get this—that’s plain. But 
now you can take it easy. Your father and I will see 
to the rest. I’m on the high road to fortune, Lena. 
Those Germans are free with their money. I 
needn’t drudge along as a school-teacher forever. 
This will give me a start, and I’ll make good on 
Wall Street instead. I’ve always wanted to dabble 
in stocks. We’ll climb—we’ll climb! I’ve been crazy 
about you since you first came into the school. 
It’s your eyes—they’re hypnotic! That’s why I 
went into this—it gave me a chance to be near you 
and to feather your own nest besides. You under¬ 
stand that? 

Lena. Yes, I understand. 

Walters. And now that we’re hand and glove 
on this deal—what’s the use of being so cold? 
Lena— (Tries to grasp her hand) 

Lena. Let me go—let me go! I hate you! I 
don’t know which I hate most, you or myself! 

Curtain, 


ACT III 

Scene: Same as in Act I except that it has al¬ 
most lost its identity as a school-room. The 
special school furnishings have been cleared 
moay, except perhaps the map on wall and 



68 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

desk at l. A telephone has been installed on 
desk. There is a small table at r. on which are 
heaped Red Cross supplies. Boxes and bundles 
are stacked about on desk and floor stamped 
with the Red Cross emblem. A placard prom¬ 
inently placed bears words u Red Cross Head¬ 
quarters”. A big American flag zvith pulley- 
ropes attached leans against wall near door c. 
Large clock on shelf at r. Chairs, etc. 

Time: Evening of the same day. 

Discovered: Michael, setting clock. He waits for 
it to strike, then crosses to l. and puts hand 
on one of the electric buttons. Darkness fol¬ 
lows, save for a shaft of moonlight that falls 
through window at l., and the corridor remains 
lighted. 

Bernice. (Outside the darkened room, comes 
into view in corridor with Lena at c.) Oh, Mich¬ 
ael, do snap those lights on again! It won’t take 
us but a minute, but we want to use the telephone. 

Michael. (Speaks from darkness ) Telephone 
ain’t public—only for thim that belongs to the Red 
Cross. 

Bernice. Well, for goodness sakes don’t I be¬ 
long, and haven’t I just driven in ten miles from 
camp to get here? 

Michael. (Snaps on lights) Excuse me, Miss 
Olcutt, I didn’t know you in that funny hat, and 
besides that, you’ve not been round here lately—nor 
Miss Bergenfeld. 

(Bernice and Lena come into room.) 

Bernice. No, none of us camp-fire girls have, 
though they’ll all be in to-morrow to attend the 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 69 


special Red Cross meeting. Lena and I are just 
a little bit in advance of them, that’s all. You see, 
she got uneasy about her father because she thought 
he didn’t look well when he visited the camp to¬ 
day, thought I tell her it’s just imagination—and 
took a sudden notion she wanted to come to town. 
A plain case of homesickness, I call it. 

Lena. (Who has seated herself at desk and 
taken receiver from 'phone) I do hope I’ll get him 
at the store. ( Speaks into 'phone) Give me 677. 
Ring 2, please. 

Bernice. (Lowers her voice a bit and explains 
to Michael) We stopped to let her off at her 
house as we came by, but it was all shut up and 
dark as Egypt. I told her Mr. Bergenfeld must be 
well, or he’d be at home in bed. 

Lena. ( Eagerly, at 'phone) Yes? 

Bernice. Sh! ( Claps hand over her month to 
keep from interrupting Lena) 

Lena. Thank you. Please call me. (To Ber¬ 
nice) The line’s busy, so I don’t know whether he’s 
there or not. 

Bernice. Well, somebody must be there, and 
they can tell you about him. (Goes just outside 
door c. and calls off to l.) Come on up, Mrs. 
Scrovins! The wire’s busy and we’ve got to wait! 
(Mrs. Scrovins is heard to reply in the distance.) 

Lena. Sorry to delay your closing up, Michael, 
but I didn’t want to wake up any of the neigh¬ 
bors at this hour of the night—and as we saw the 
lights were still on here- 

Michael. That’s all right. In war times I sup¬ 
pose we’re in luck to be getting any sleep at all! 
You must be tired, the both of yez, after a ten mile 
drive along a bumpy road. 

Bernice. Well, I don’t know how Lena feels, 
but personally I’m fresh as a daisy. I want you 
to understand, Michael, that Mrs. Scrovins, Lena, 



;o HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Tildy and I came in all the way by ourselves, and 
that I did the driving! 

(Enter Mrs. Scrovins and Matilda at c. Matilda 
yawns and shows signs of going to sleep on 
her feet.) 

Michael. Widout no man at all? 

Bernice. (Airly) A male being would have 
been entirely superfluous, and half the. time it was 
so dark you couldn’t see your hand before your 
face. 

Michael. What kind of a horse did you have? 

Mrs. Scrovins. A calico one belonging to Mr. 
Doyle the milkman—she borrowed it along with a 
covered wagon with a step on the back and doors 
you can open to get out the milk cans when an extry 
seat isn’t put in for passengers as was the case to¬ 
night, and all the way in I was wondering what 
would happen if that horse should run away- 

Michael. ’Twould be a miracle that happened 
if he ran away—I know the horse. 

Bernice. ( A bit crestfallen) Well, I acknowl¬ 
edge that he wasn’t exactly wild, and that I had 
to smack him with the reins sometimes to speed 
him up. But anyhow I’ve done something to show 
Stephen Buss he's not so important as he thinks he 
is and that a girl can turn around sometimes with¬ 
out depending on a man to look out for her and 
tell her which is East and which is West. Oh, in¬ 
dependence is a glorious feeling! 

Mrs. Scrovins. Though if that horse had hap¬ 
pened to be taken on the way in that blackest stretch 
of woods with appendicitis which is the scientific 
name for colic and which is one and the same thing 
and affects man and animals alike, as I can prove 
from having had a cousin operated on at an expense 
of three hundred dollars, and the Doctor carelessly 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 71 


dropping his eye-glasses in the wound which caused 
him to be laid wide open again and for the second 
time- 

Matilda. ( Yawningly, but with patient deter¬ 
mination) Ma means ’twa’n’t the Doctor that was 
laid wide open for the second time, but her 
cousin. 

Mrs. Scrovins, Just exactly my own words in 
plain language, and as anyone acquainted with Doc¬ 
tors should know, cutting folks wide open being 
their business which they have to do to make a 
living, only in this case the Doctor being set on get¬ 
ting his eye-glasses back again made it especially 
hard for Cousin Leander being only rolled plate 
anyhow- 

Matilda. Ma meant it wasn’t her cousin that 
was rolled plate, but— {Yawns) What ails my 
mouth? It keeps floppin’ open. 

Michael. It’s time for any mouth to flop open 
past eleven at night. 

Lena. So sorry! I hope I won’t have to de¬ 
tain you all much longer. Why don’t they call me, 
I wonder? (Begins to pace the floor) I must find 
out where my father is—I must speak with him! 

Bernice. When these quiet, self-contained girls 
do get homesick, look out! They’re much worse 
than the cry-baby kind. 

Lena. (Ncrvonsly) What if Father shouldn’t 
be at the store? What if he hasn’t been there all 
evening ? 

Bernice. Then probably he went to the movies. 
Good heavens, Lena, anyone would think from the 
way you act that your father was in his second 
childhood and couldn’t find his way around! 

(The sound of an exploding tire is heard.) 

Lena. ( Wildly ) What is that? 




72 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Michael. A busted tire and some cuss words 
from that man that’s driving. 

Lena. Are you sure? I—I thought it sounded 
like a big explosion of some kind. 

Bernice. What an idea! But I suppose we 
all think of such things more or less now that we’re 
actually in the war. I know I do, for I know per¬ 
fectly well that Dad’s factory is the first thing 
the Germans would blow up if they ever landed 
in Redfield. (She is close to window at l. and 
turns toward it) Look, Lena, you can see the 
lights in the windows from here. They keep some 
of them burning all night long! (Lena comes to 
side of Bernice) 

Lena. Yes, I see. 

Bernice. (Who has hold of Irena’s hand) Why, 
your hand is like ice. I believe you’ve a regular ner¬ 
vous chill! (Crosses to telephone on desk) That 
wire can’t have been busy all this time. I’ll call 
up your father’s store myself. (The ’phone rings 
just as she is ready to use it) At last! (Takes 
'phone) Hulloa! Is this Mr. Bergenfeld? (Slight 
pause) Well, how do, Mr. Bergenfeld, this is 
Bernice Olcutt speaking. I’m ’phoning for Lena. 

Lena. (Murmurs her relief) Then he is there 
—thank heaven! 

Bernice. (Continues at ’phone ) We’re here 
in town at the Red Cross Rooms at the Academy. 
Lena tried to get into the house but couldn’t. 
(Pause) No, just homesick—a very bad case of 
it. Four of us drove in together and if you’d like 
to have her stay all night with me— (Pause) No, 
of course not, if you object. Yes. I’ll tell her. 
Good-night. (Turns, rises) You are to wait here, 
Lena, and he’ll come by for you from the store. I 
must say he didn’t seem highly overjoyed that you 
had come in—I’m afraid he almost blames me for 
bringing you. 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 73 

Lena. I suppose it was foolish of me—-— 

Bernice. He said you were to wait—that he 
expects to be here in about twenty minutes. 

Michael. (Looks at watch) Well, I’ll read 
the war news over again to keep awake until every* 
body’s out. (Exits at c. and off r.) 

Lena. I seem to be making trouble for every¬ 
one. 

Bernice, Nothing of the kind, you dear thing, 
though I must say I was rather surprised at the 
way your father spoke. Why, my Dad, bless his 
dear old bald head, would almost perish with de* 
light if he thought I’d driven ten miles just be¬ 
cause I’d got so homesick I couldn’t live without 
him. 

Lena. It wasn’t homesickness, exactly, and 
Father knew it. He probably guesses I’ve been im¬ 
agining all sorts of horrible things that couldn’t 
possibly happen- 

Bernice. I know what’s the matter with you, 
Lena—too much bothering with that telepathy stuff. 
You’ve been nervous ever since you tried that 
experiment about the pass-word—now, own up, 
haven’t you? 

Lena. Yes—that’s true—I—I have. 

Bernice. I’ve always heard that any of that 
spook business was just awful on the nerves, and 
now I believe it. 

Buss. (Suddenly enters at c.) Hullo! 

Bernice. Buss ! Of all people. 

Buss. Just wanted to say that if you’re going 
to stick around here much longer I’d better hitch 
that old Calico horse. 

Bernice. Sure enough, I never thought about 
hitching him. I suppose I got it in my head he 
couldn’t go until his engine was started—like our 
automobile. Did he try to run away? 




74 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Buss. Nope. At least not while I was watch- 
ing him. 

Bernice. And how long has that been? How 
on earth did you happen to be in Redfield any¬ 
how? 

Buss. Came down from camp on the wagon. 

Bernice. What wagon ? 

Buss. Doyle’s, along with you. 

Bernice. ( Indignantly ) You didn’t! 

Buss. Rode on the back step except when you 
slowed up, then I hopped off and walked. Only 
trouble was to- run slow enough not to get ahead 
of the horse! 

Bernice. And you actually dare tell me you 
came all the way from camp with us and didn’t 
let me know? Why? 

Buss. Thought you wouldn’t like it if I did let 
you know, but I’d made up my mind four women 
oughtn’t to take a trip like that without some man 
along in case of an emergency. 

Bernice. Well, I never! (Sits, very angry ) 

Mrs. Scrovins. Come to think of it, I did hear 
footsteps a pattering behind us, or thought I did, but 
not being one of the kind that spreads alarm as my 
poor dear husband well knew even though it might 
be a wild animal, I sat silent though perspiring, but 
the thanks of all of us I’m sure are due you for 
your protecting presence, Mr. Buss, for woman 
without man is a poor and melancholy creature, and 
four women are naturally four times worse, which 
all of the sex I know feds with the exception of 
Sarah Perkins who went to school with me, and 
who had a large nose with a wart on it, and always 
insisted she was sufficient to herself alone, which we 
all felt was due to the wart and changing her mind 
at thirty-nine because of a proposal received 
from a yeast peddler with two previous wives and 
later arrested for bigamy, which wasn’t her fault, 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 75 


poor thing, for she didn’t know until it was too 
late- 

Matilda. (Who has been yawning almost con¬ 
tinuously) Ma means— (Y awning ly) I guess she 
don’t mean anything! 

Mrs. Scrovins. Exactly what 1 was telling them 
in plain words—and — ( Shakes the drooping Mat¬ 
ilda) My goodness, are you going to sleep right 
on your feet? Come on into the store-room and 
help me count up them new supplies, for the more 
I count to-night the less I’ll have to do in the morn¬ 
ing, though I’m sure I don’t know what folks think - 
I’m made of- 

Matilda. Won’t you come too, Lena? Countin’ 
up always makes me sleepier than ever. 

Lena. Maybe the school phonograph would keep 
you awake, Tildy. Anyhow we can try it. It’s in 
the reception-room the other side of the building 
and we can cross over and have a tune or two be¬ 
fore your mother gets through, I’m sure. 

Matilda. Oh, goody! Let’s choose Over There 
and Doxology, ’cause I like them two tunes best. 

(They start for door r. and exit as Mrs. Scrovins 
begins to talk) 

Mrs. Scrovins. ( To Bernice and Buss) Now 
that’s mighty kind of Miss Bergenfeld to try to 
keep Tildy awake, for she’s just like her father 
who when he’d made up his mind to go to sleep 
was as unbudgable as the Sphinx, though why 
everybody should always be talking about the 
Sphinx thousands of miles away, when we’ve got 
plenty of home-made stone images doubtless just 
as good right here in the park is more than I— 

(Exits door r. still talking) 

(Buss comes up to speak to Bernice who promptly 
turns her back and elevates her chin.) 

Buss. Mad? 




76 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Bernice. I’m more than mad. I—I—oh, I 
just can’t find words to tell you what I think of 
you. 

Buss. Try! Spit it out. You’ll feel better af¬ 
terwards. 

Bernice. Of course you just hung on to that 
wagon on purpose to exasperate me. 

Buss. I didn’t. I did it on purpose to take care 
of you. 

Bernice. But I don’t want to be taken care of! 
Can’t you understand that you’ve just spoiled the 
whole purpose of my ride? I set out to prove a 
principle—*he principle that a young woman is per¬ 
fectly competent to take care of herself, without 
having a man eternally tagging along to protect her. 
And now I’ve proven nothing. Even if you didn’t 
protect, and weren’t a particle of use, the truth re¬ 
mains that you were there in case of need. When 
anyone asks if we drove in alone, we’ve got to ad¬ 
mit that Blunderbuss was with us. And of course 
that spoils all the effect. 

Buss. (With intense gloom ) I suppose so. 

Bernice. Why don’t you ever think to change 
your tactics, Blunderbuss? I should think you 
would when you’re always after me and always 
getting squelched for it afterwards. I should think 
it would get to be monotonous. 

Buss. It does. Particularly the getting squel¬ 
ched. Look here, Bernice, ever since I was knee- 
high to a hop-toad I’ve been trailing around after 
you, being respectful, being kind, ready to lie down 
and let you walk all over me if you wanted to, and 
what have I got for it ? Nothing but “ Poor old 
Blunderbuss, you’re always making mistakes! ” and 
then that little contemptuous laugh of yours. It 
was the laugh, I guess, that got my goat. 

Bernice. Are you actually daring to criticise 
me, Stephen Buss? 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 77 


Buss. No, I’m just taking your hint and changing 
my tactics. You’ve pitched into me same as usual, 
but I’m not going to submit to it same as usual. 

Bernice. Indeed, and what are you going to 
do? 

Buss. Keep on talking in that toploftical tone 
and you’ll find out. 

Bernice. I suppose you mean you’re going to 
cut my acquaintance. You’d be able to hold out on 
that for about two days. Well, even for that long 
it would be a blessed relief not to have you dangling 
around. And if you wanted to go off with some 
of the other girls, you couldn’t please me better. 
Thank goodness, there’s not a man I know who 
can make my heart beat one bit faster, and if I ever 
fall in love, which I don’t intend to let happen for 
years and years, it won’t be with an awkward boy 
with big feet who—( Suddenly seizes her in his 
arms) Blunderbuss, what are you doing? 

Buss. Holding you tight in my arms. 

Bernice. Let me go this instant! 

Buss. Not until I’ve taken a kiss for every one 
of your scornful speeches you’ve made to-night! 
{He kisses her) 

Bernice. I thought you were a gentleman. {He 
kisses her again in spite of her struggles) 

Buss. So did I— {Kisses her again) until to¬ 
night. But I’ve decided that this gentleman varn¬ 
ish is only one layer deep after all. {Kisses her 
again, then she breaks away) 

Bernice. You’re a brute! 

Buss. You can say what you want to now—I’ve 
made you pay. 

Bernice. I’ll never forgive you as long as I live. 

Buss. I’ll never ask you to. 

Bernice. I’ll just hate you. 

Buss. I expect that, but you’ll have to stop laugh¬ 
ing at me, for by George when I’m in the trenches 


78 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

over there in France, you’ll have to remember that 
I held you in my arms and kissed you in spite of 
yourself. 

Bernice. What do you mean by “ trenches ” 
and “ France ” and ail that talk? You—you haven’t 
enlisted ? 

Buss. Sure, yesterday. Passed physical ex¬ 
ams, too, and Dad gave his consent, so I got in even 
if I am under age. 

Bernice. Why, Stephen Buss, why didn’t you 
tell me of this before? 

Buss. I meant to this afternoon. Fact is I 
brought that ice-cream to sort of celebrate the event, 
but things didn’t turn out the way I expected. 

Bernice. (With emotion) Your going to war 
seems to change everything. I—I do forgive you, 
Buss, kisses and all, since it’s going to be good-bye 
forever. 

Buss. Don’t misunderstand me. I didn’t take 
those kisses in order to put over any of that good¬ 
bye forever business. 

Bernice. You’re awfully dense. What I meant 
was that if—if you’re going over there to fight for 
our country and want me to promise anything be¬ 
fore you start- 

Buss. Eh ? 

Bernice. It may seem awfully sudden, but 
when I think of your marching of! to battle and 
the band playing, something just chokes me. I never 
realized before- 

Buss. You think you’re in love with me, do 
you? 

Bernice. Why, yes, I guess I must be! 

Buss. (After a slight pause) I’m an odd sort 
of chap, I suppose. An hour ago if anyone had 
told me you’d ever own up to as much as that, Old 
Mahomet and his Seventh Heaven of delight 
wouldn’t have had anything on me. You see I’ve 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 79 

tumbled hard to the fact that it isn’t love for Steve 
Buss that’s got you, it’s the lure of the U. S. uni¬ 
form. Fact is—a lot of this farewell to the brave 
soldier-boy and “ you're the only man I can ever 
love ” isn’t the real thing at all—it’s just a poor imi¬ 
tation. It might answer for a while, but some of 
these days the war will be over, and the boys who 
come back will get into their every-day clothes 
again, and then what would I seem like to you but 
the same plain old Blunderbuss with big feet you’ve 
always made fun of? 

Bernice. But I’d stick to you as long as I’d 
promised to. 

Buss. Who in thunder wants a girl to stick 
to him just because she’s promised to? What I 
want is a girl whose heart is glued so close she 
couldn’t break away if she tried—a girl that doesn’t 
care whether I have big fee.t or not—that don’t 
care whether I’m in a soldier’s uniform or farmer’s 
overalls. No, no, you can’t fool me, kid. Nothing 
doing! I want real love or none. ( Starts toward 
door c.) 

Bernice, Where are you going? 

Buss. ( From door c.) To unhitch that calico 
horse and take him around to the livery-stable. 

(Exits c. and off l.) 

Bernice. {Calls after him) Blunderbuss! Buss! 
Stephen! 

{Enter Lena r.) 

Bernice. Lena, he’s gone—actually gone with¬ 
out even saying good-night! 

Lena. You’ve been quarreling with Blunderbuss 
again ? 

Bernice. No, not exactly quarreling, but oh, 
Lena! Do you mind if I don’t wait with you any 
longer? If I just go home alone, I mean—that is 
with Buss and the calico horse? 


Bo HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Lena. Why, of course not! I just came in to 
tell you not to wait any longer. 

BernicE. Then I guess I won’t, for I’ve some¬ 
thing important to settle, and I’ll never have another 
happy moment until it’s settled right. Buss 
thinks he understands me, but he doesn’t. I didn’t 
understand myself until about five minutes ago, 
either. But now I do, and it’s wonderful! Good¬ 
night, Lena. I just can’t risk letting him get away! 
(Rushes out c. and off l.) 

(Matilda enters at l. stretching and yawning.) 

Matilda. I liked Doxology, but it’s an awful 
sleepy tune. Anyhow, Ma’s cornin’ in a minute. 

Michael. ( Enters c. from r.) It’s getting that 
late even the man in the moon’s beginning to sink 
low in a blanket of clouds for a nap! Maybe your 
father didn’t understand he was to call and get you, 
Miss Bergenfeld. 

Lena. Yes, I’m sure he did! I don’t know 
what can be keeping him. 

Matilda. (Yazvnina and half cryinq) I want 
to go home! 

Michael. Of course it ain’t your fault, but a 
man that works as hard as I do must have his sleep, 
and I was thinkin’—would you mind locking up 
here yourself and slipping the key under my door 
when you go out? 

Lena. Of course not. That’s the idea exactly! 

I don’t know why I didn’t think of suggesting it 
myself. ( Enter Mrs. Scrovins r.) Just let me 
have the key, and there’s no reason why everybody 
shouldn’t go. 

Michael. (As he gives her a key off key-ring) 
Glad you ain’t afraid like some women-folks to Stay 
by yourself. (He crosses to door r. and locks 
it) 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 81 


Lena. It isn’t as if you didn’t live right here 
in the building. Mrs. Scrovins, you’ll go now too, 
won’t you? I’d really rather stay by myself. 

Michael. (As he exits c.) Good-night. 

Omnes. Good-night. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Then I believe I will go, Miss 
Bergenfeld. I confess I got so drowsy in there I 
didn’t know a roll of bandage from a whisk-broom, 
and Tildy’s eyes are squintin’ fit to kill, por thing! 
takin’ that trait from both sides of the house, I 
often dropping into a doze when he was courting 
me, which is most unusual, though I once had a 
cousin who went to sleep and forgot to appear at 
her own marriage ceremony, and he married her 
sister instead just out of school, thereby causing 
her to live an old maid all the rest of her life, but 
she felt herself justified, for as she told her hus¬ 
band— 

Matilda. Ma means ’twa’n’t the old maid that 
told her husband, ’twas the one that got him. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Which is my identical words in 
plain English, and, Tildy, you might let me finish a 
sentence once in my life, which anybody knows I 
neveh get a chance to do with you around, and 
not being a natural talker-. 

Matilda. Come on, Ma! Don’t get to goin’ 
again. I’m so sleepy I just can’t stand it. ( Drags 
Mrs. Scrovins toward door c.) Good-night, Lena. 

Lena. Good-night, Tildy. Good-night, Mrs. 
Scrovins. 

Mrs. Scrovins. Good-night, and for goodness 
sakes, Tildy, don’t forget where you are and fall 
full length headlong down the stairs, ( exits with 
Matilda c. and off l.) for I own up I’m not in full 
possession of my senses, and if you should once 
start falling— (Becomes inaudible) 

(Lena, left alone, looks from window . Begins to 




82 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


pace the floor. The J phone rings, and, hearing 
it, she gives a slight shriek.) 

Lena. ( Hastily takes up ’phone) Yes—yes— 
this is Miss Bergenfeld—I’m still here waiting for 
Father. Who is this speaking? (Pause) Oh, the 
nightwatchman in Father’s building? Well, what is 
it? (Pause) But there must be some mistake. She 
must mean another family of that name. But she 
can’t be my sister, for Father and I have no rela¬ 
tives in this country—none at all. What? She’s 
started out to overtake Father ? Well, thank you for 
telling me, but she must be crazy—that’s all. 
(Pause) Yes, John, of course I realize you did the 
best you know. (Hangs up receiver) 

Bergenfeld. (Appears in door rather breathless 
and fanning himself with his slouch hat) Well, 
daughter ? 

Lena. (Starts tozvard him) Father, I’m so glad 
you’ve come! I was growing uneasy about you, 
and besides I’ve just had the strangest ’phone from 
your night-watchman. 

Bergenfeld. What? 

.Lena. He says a woman who claimed to be my 
sister came along inquiring for you—said she was 
just off the train, so he told her she might possibly 
overtake you as you’d started to come here after 
me. 

Bergenfeld. Your sister? Bah! What foolish¬ 
ness! John, he likes too much the drink on his 
lonely rounds. Your sister! It is all in his head. 
(Snaps fingers) We dismiss it—like that. But I 
wish that your faithful sister in Alsace could indeed 
be here long enough to act as an example for you. 
Why have you come this night to see me, to take 
my mind from the important plans I am forming— 
each as by an inspiration! Is it that your coward 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 83 


heart trembles for the result of the little help you 
gave us? Yes? It is not so? 

Lena. Yes, Father, I confess I have been fairly 
terror-stricken ever since Walters left the camp this 
afternoon. I—I got to thinking, and somehow 1 
—I didn’t trust Walters nor his word of honor at 
all—I couldn’t. I said to myself—if he finds when 
he gets into that factory that there’s no chance of 
getting those photographs after all—is he going to 
let it go at that ? What is there he wouldn’t do for 
money? I just got wild, and begged Bernice Olcutt 
to drive me in on another pretense. And when I 
got here and heard a tire explode in the street a 
while ago—I—I- 

Bergenfeld. Ah, so your mind went even as 
far as that, eh? Well, it seems you imagine much, 
my Lena. ( Points off through window at l.) See, 
the lights of the factory are still burning, and I hope 
by this time Walters has what he went for. ( Turns 
to Lena) Foolish child! 

Lena. Perhaps my nerves were a little over¬ 
strained, but oustide of that—( Hesitates, then 
gathers courage to proceed) Oh, Father, does no 
doubt of the righteousness of the German cause ever 
trouble you? 

Bergenfeld. Never! I was born a German, and 
it is the secret of the German strength that we re¬ 
main true to our training. Love of Germany! 
Belief in Germany! It is a habit that has worn 
deep channels in my brain and heart. 

Lena. But suppose some day something happened 
to shock you out of that channel? 

Bergenfeld. That could come only through a 
soul-wrenching catastrophe, a cataclysm too great 
for the mind to grasp. It will not come. It could 
not be. But you—( Coldly ) at a breath of the wind 
you change. It is the weak, vacillating American 
blood in you that speaks—your mother’s blood. 



84 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Lena. You loved my mother? 

Bergenfeld. I loved her, yes, but she had for 
herself only a small share of my heart. She was 
a woman, and women are the inferior sex—‘SO in 
Germany we have always believed. That is why 
we exalt our men. Yes, I loved your mother as I 
love my daughters, my jewelry-store, my books, but 
not with my soul as I love my country, and as I 
love my grandson Rudolph, in whom my old blood 
flows young again. 

Lena. And yet Rudolph is only a baby three 
years old. You hardly know him. 

Bergenfeld. Not a baby—a man-child! Such 
as he are the hope of our future. Germany must 
and shall be the victor for the sake of the German 
men-children. But come, why do we stay here to 
talk about these things? 

(Without warning, Walters, bearded heavily, and 
in the garb of a workman, makes a swift and 
stealthy entrance at c.) 

Lena. ( Frightened ) Mercy! Who are you? 
What do you want? 

Walters. ( Snatches off long beard) It is I— 
Walters. 

Bergenfeld. What ails you? Are you being 
followed ? 

Walters. I don’t know. There seemed to be 
strange shapes trying to catch up with me, so I 
ran on and on, blindly, like a dog. When I came 
to myself I saw the Academy black against the 
moon—and as I crouched in the shadow of the 
gates—you passed—so near I could have reached 
out and touched you. I—I had to see you, so—- 
when the coast seemed clear—I followed you in. 
(Gives a start and looks behind him) What’s that? 
Are you sure we’re alone here ? 

Bergenfeld. Yes. Pull yourself together. Be 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 85 


a man. This is not wise, your coming here. You 
should have waited till the proper time. Well, what 
news? You failed? They questioned you and you 
ran away? 

Walters. I wasn’t questioned—I wasn’t even 
suspected. I got inside on the pass without any 
trouble at all, and hid until the workmen had gone, 
and then—and then—( Seems about to lose his nerve 
again) 

Bergenfeld. The photographs ! You got them? 

Walters. No, no chance in the world. I was 
afraid there wouldn’t be—I told you that, and so 
—I—I had to do the other. 

Bergenfeld. You succeeded? 

Walters. Yes. Placed it just inside the door of 
the finishing room- 

Lena. Placed what? 

Bergenfeld. Ah, so you did have the courage! 
That means for you a rich reward. 

Lena. Placed what, I say? 

Walters. A bomb—timed for midnight. If 
nothing happens—it will blow the place to atoms! 

Lena. No, no! Why, you gave me your prom¬ 
ise on your word of honor- 

Bergenfeld. Silence! He did but follow my 
instructions if the worst came to the worst. 

Lena. But you yourself promised there’d be no 
bombs—no violence- 

Bergenfeld. Always supposing there were no 
complications. It had to be done for the sake of 
Germany—the fortunes of war! Before the mach¬ 
inery can be reconstructed, Germany’s submarines 
may have won the great victory. You should re- 
joice. 

Walters. Hah! I thought someone was right 
at my shoulder! I—I’m all to pieces. 

Bergenfeld. Why do you keep on shaking as 
with a chill ? No lives will be lost. 




86 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Walters. But that's just it. I haven’t told you 
the worst. 

Lena. The worst ? What do you mean by that ? 

Walters. (To Bergenfeld) You told me the 
factory would be empty. I thought myself it was 
empty. But—after the job was done—I heard 
voices in the office—I recognized them—Olcutt and 
his son working there. 

Len.jl But you went back? You saw that the 
bomb was removed? 

Walters. I—I couldn’t. My nerve had given 
out. All I thought of was to make my getaway. 

Lena. You don’t mean to say you left Frank 
and his father there—in danger of death? 

Walters. They’re not the only ones in danger. 
Let this once be found out on me, and I’ll be 
convicted of murder. The fact that I thought the 
place was empty would have no weight at all. (Looks 
off through ivindow at l.) Gad! if the lights 
would only wink out in that corner room, I’d know 
they’d gone! 

Lena. And no one to tell them of their danger! 
Oh! (Starts toward door c.) 

Bergenfeld. (Intercepts her) Stop! Where 
are you going? 

Lena. To warn them. I’ll run all the way— 
there should yet be time. 

Bergenfeld. You would betray us all ? Betray 
Germany? (Draws her hack into room) 

Lena. Let me go—let me go! They shall not 
die—I say they shall not. 

Bergenfeld. Stop that screaming. (To Wal¬ 
ters) Shut that door. (Walters obeys) 

Lena. Oh, Father, you must not let this go 
on ! Why, I love Frank Olcutt, love him with all 
my heart and soul—and you—you ask me to let 
him meet a horrible death—to stand by and per¬ 
mit it! Let me go, Father—just to say a word of 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 87 


warning—IT 1 not betray you, nor anyone—I’ll swear 
to that. Think of your love for my mother, for 
my sister, for little Rudolph—of all the loves in 
the world rolled into one and you can’t equal the 
love I have for that boy in the shadow of death. 
Let me save him—let me at least try! Don’t you 
see—I—I helped you to this—and you’re making 
me—me—guilty of his murder! 

Bergenfeld. The less must be sacrificed to the 
greater. There is but one thing to remember—if 
the maker of the torpedo dies—there will be no 
more built to ruin us. 

Lena. You would allow this? But you shall 
not. ( Runs to phone. Takes up receiver) Cen¬ 
tral ! Central! , 

Walters. (Springs and takes the phone from 
her hands ) None of that. 

Bergenfeld. (To Lena) You have gone in¬ 
sane? Very well! Then we shall restrain you. 

(Points to hoisting rope attached to big flag against 
the zvall) That rope there—cut a length of it. 

Walters. ( Obeys with alacrity) You’re going 
to bind her? 

Bergenfeld. Until it is over. Later she will be 
p-lad she was not allowed to turn traitor to her 
father and the cause. Left alone—she will have 
t* : me to think. 

Lena. Don’t, Father! Have mercy! Oh, Frank! 
Frank! (They tie her in a chair and place a hand¬ 
kerchief about her mouth. She makes an attempt 
to speak. For a moment her father loosens the 
handkerchief) 

Bergenfeld. What is it you would say? 

Lena. Air ! Air! Near the window l 

Bergenfeld. It shall be as you say. I make you 
no more uncomfortable than I must. I would not 
be unkind, but firm. A father’s daughter must 
obey. (To Walters) Help me lift the chair—mo 



88 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

noise! ( They place the chair near the window. 
Bergenfeld tightens the handkerchief about Lena s 
mouth again) We go now, since we must protect 
ourselves. Later, after midnight, I will come and 
release you. 

Walters. (As Bergenfeld starts toward door 
c.) Wait! Let me get the Start of you. You 
were right—we should not be seen together until 
it is safe. 

Bergenfeld. And still you tremble—you whim- 
per. 

Walters. Because I know if they found out— 
suspected me, even—I’d be mobbed—strung up to 
the nearest lamp-post. 

Bergenfeld. Think instead of the gold you will 
get—the gold you Americans worship! 

Walters. A man can risk too much' even for 
gold. ( Stealthily exits at c.) 

(Lena moans and moves her head.) 

Bergenfeld. You, I pity you—but it is only that 
you have such a fainting heart. And what if two 
men die ? It is to the end that thousands of our brave 
soldiers shall not meet destruction on the sea—and 
shall be spared to the service of Germany. We 
Germans are always kind, except when it is neces¬ 
sary to be cruel. Then the deed is glorified be¬ 
cause it is for the good of the Fatherland! (Exits 
at c.) 

(The moment the door is closed Lena begins slowly 
shoving her chair, as best she may, toward 
the line of electric buttons on the wall. Fin¬ 
ally she is near enough to move her head back 
and strike against them. Instantly the lights 
go out and bright moonlight reveals her as she 
still continues to press against the buttons.) 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 89 

Michael. ( Heard in distance ) I’m coming— 
coming—fast as I can make it wid me game leg! 
( Opens door) Who’s here? Who sounded the 
fire-alarm? In heaven’s name—( Crosses to the 
line of buttons and snaps on lights) Miss Bergen- 
feld! Who’s done the likes of this? Speak, can’t 
you? Was it burglars? 

Lena. ( After handkerchief is removed) Two 
men—but they’ve gone now. 

Michael. What did they look like? 

Lena. I—I—it all happened so quickly—and I 
was frightened—oh, don’t wait to untie those 
ropes—cut them and set me free! 

Michael. As fast as I can, Miss—I haven’t my 
knife wid me. There you are! 

(Lena springs up.) 

Lena. I must get to that ’phone—give the alarm! 

Michael. Right you are, and I’ll follow them 
up. They can’t have got very far. ( Runs out at 
c. and off l.) 

Lena. (At'phone) Central! Central! (Pause) 
Why don’t they answer? Oh, God help me to be 
in time! Central, give me the Olcutt Manufactur¬ 
ing Company. I don’t know the number, but it’s 
a matter of life and death. (Pause) Dear God, 
help me! (Pause) Hulloa! Mr. Olcutt? This 
is a friend speaking. You’re in great danger—a 
bomb has been placed inside the door of the finish¬ 
ing room—it’s timed to wreck the building at mid¬ 
night. Disregard this warning at your peril. You 
believe me? You’ll investigate at once? Thank 
heaven! (Bergenfeld now advances into the room , 
having made his appearance at c. too late to prevent 
message going through) Father! 

Bergenfeld. So, you outwitted us! I heard 
the sound of bells below and did not suspect the 


(jo HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

signal came from you until the janitor rushed past 
my hiding place. 

Lena. Father, don’t look at me like that—I had 
to do it! 

Bergenfeld. So, you warned them—defeated 
a great purpose—took sides with the enemies of 
the Fatherland! You have been false to your 
sacred vow—a vow given in this very room. Do 
you remember that vow? 

Lena. Yes. 

Bergenfeld. And the penalty for breaking that 
vow—you remember that, also? 

Lena. But Father —1 could not see the man I 
loved slaughtered without a chance to save him¬ 
self! 

Bergenfeld. Enough! ( Produces roll of bills 
and a small box from his pocket ) There is money. 
Take it and go to another city. Buy new clothing. 
Destroy what you are wearing. Leave nothing to 
show who you are—that you were ever Otto Berg- 
enfeld’s daughter. You will find in the little box 
what is enough, and it is painless. Do you under¬ 
stand me? 

Lena. Yes, I understand, and I will carry out 
your commands exactly as you give them. After 
all—my little life doesn’t matter—nothing matters— 
if only I have saved him! I—you’ll say good-bye to 
me, Father? 

Bergenfeld. A traitor to Germany can no longc'’ 
be a daughter of mine. 

Lena. But when we’re parting forever, Father, 
can’t you spare me one kind word—it would make 
it a little easier for me? (Pause. He is unyield¬ 
ing) But if you cannot, I know you only do what 
you think is right. I know that I too did what I 
thought was right. (Prepares to go) 

Gretchen. (Heard outside) Father! Father! 

Bergenfeld; That voice—that calls “ father ! ” 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 91 


( Enter Gretchen at door c.) Gretchen! My 
daughter Gretchen! So, you did come to me, and 
there was no mistake after all! 

Gretchen. ( Pantingly ) Oh, Father, I thought 
I would never reach you! I lost my way—I’ve 
been wandering about the streets but at last- 

Bergenfeld. At last you are here; all the way 
from far Alsace to bring word to your father of 
the Germans and what great things they are doing! 

Gretchen. Yes, I have come all the way to tell 
you of the Germans. 

Bergenfeld. You are just in time to comfort 
me—bind up my broken heart. 

Gretchen. Ah, no! I have come for comfort, 
because my own heart is broken L ( Turns to Lena) 
And this—this is my little sister- 

Bergenfeld. (To Lena, as she is about to rush 
into Gretchen's arms) Stand back! (To Gret- 
ciien) Lena—is no longer a daughter of mine, 
nor sister of yours. She has proved a traitor to 
our beloved Fatherland. 

Gretchen. (Wildly) A traitor to our beloved 
Fatherland? Ha, Ha, ha! That is what they 
called him —“ traitor! ” 

Bergenfeld. What? You are laughing? Yet 
with a face so sad ? My daughter—your black 
dress—what does it mean? Now that I look at 
you closely—your face—why, it is older by years 
than it should be! How came you here alone ? 
Where is Hans, your husband? Where is my little 
grandson—Rudolph ? 

Gretchen. (To Lena) A traitor to our beloved 
Germany are you, sister mine? Ha, ha, ha! A 
curse on Germany! 

Bergenfeld. A curse on Germany, you say? Ah ! 
Have you then gone mad? 

Gretchen. No, I am not mad—it is you — you 
who have not your senses—you who are hood- 




92 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

winked, blinded, like others of my country. At the 
risk of my life I escaped from Alsace into Switzer¬ 
land ! Thence to Italy and across the sea to America 
that I might tell you so. Listen! Always we in 
Alsace-Lorraine, French and Germans together, 
were each proud in our own hearts of the land 
from which we had sprung—were each eager for 
that land to be the dominating one. So, when the 
war came, and the German troops swarmed through 
Alsace—“ They will be kind to us,”- I said to my 
French-Alsatian neighbors. “ You will see what 
Germany is! ” And my husband—my Hans— 
though his father was of French bloood, remember¬ 
ing his mother was German, did not murmur when 
they drove him to fight against France, and though 
his heart was torn because too he loved his father’s 
people—he fought bravely. But—as you know-—- 
he was never strong, and one day when the order 
came to charge against the French—he could not 
obey—he stumbled and fell! Then—then—some¬ 
one remembered that his father had been French! 
Immediately they accused him of sympathizing with 
the enemy—of shirking—of pretending to be sick to 
keep from fighting against them. So they got him 
on his feet and at the point of the bayonet—forced 
him to go on—but not for far. He fell again. 
They then brought him into the village—and for 
an example to his neighbors who might also remem¬ 
ber that French blood ran in their veins, they tor¬ 
tured him—-yes, calling him “ dog ” and “ French¬ 
man ”, they tortured him before my eyes, and shot 
him to death. My God—I can never shut that vision 
from my eyes! 

Bergenfeld. A terrible mistake, my daughter! 
It shakes me to the soul—but—we Germans are not 
fiends! Mistakes must occur in such serious busi¬ 
ness as war. 

Gretchen. Mistake? You call it a mistake? 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 93 


You try to make an excuse for them? Well, then, 
shall I tell you that because I cried out against their 
cruelty—tried to defend my husband—they put me 
to torture, too! I shall never tell what I suffered— 
no, the secret of that horror will be locked in my 
own heart forever—and even if I told it—how much 
would it count with you? In your eyes I am a 
woman, only a woman! 

Bergenfeld. Think not that I condone too 
much! A good German looks after his women be¬ 
cause they are weak—and though you have suffered 
—because in the red haze of war even a good soldier 
sometimes strikes where he should not—I am glad 
and give thanks that there is still little Rudolph to 
comfort you and make you forget. They may have 
wronged your husband and you—but remember, the 
German nation continues its life in the German 
child, and the German heart is ever tender to chil¬ 
dren. 

Gretchen. Then why have they taken him away 
from me ? 

Bergenfeld. I see! Still afraid of French in¬ 
fluence, they have taken him to Germany. Yes, I 
can understand how they might be suspicious of 
French influence in Alsace-Lorraine. But, my 
daughter, they will rear him carefully, kindly, and 
give him back to you after the war. I will have 
earned by that time the right to demand it, and I 
will see that they give him back. 

Gretchen. They have given him back to me 
'already. 

Bergenfeld. He is with you, then—my little 
grandson—he, the heart of my heart?—take me 
to him. 

Gretchen. They gave him back to me a bleed¬ 
ing, mutilated thing, dying in agony. “ He is French 
and accursed,” they said—and tortured him; and 
when he raised his hands, his little childish hands, 


94 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

to beg for mercy—they cut them off—before my 
eyes! 

Bergenteld. It is a lie—a fiendish lie 1 You 
shall not rave any more in your madness! 

Gretchen. A Prussian officer stood there and 
smiled as they gave him back to my arms—my baby 
-—my baby—who called out for you at the last. 
“ Don’t tell Grandpa,” he said, “ it will make him 
cry,” and then—he died—his blood ran into my 
heart. 

Bergenfeld. This is a nightmare—a dream of 
terror—but I will awake—yes, I will awake. 

Gretchen. Awake! Yes, awake, my father! 
Know' that in every hamlet, almost in every 
household an invading German enters, you will find 
old people have been tortured, women shamed, little 
ones mutilated! The Prussians have stopped at 
nothing in their lust for power! Germany, until 
cleansed and purified by fire, must remain the dis¬ 
honored among nations. What I have told you is 
only a part of the truth, the whole truth can never 
be told. ( Points to flag against the wall ) No one 
will ever know how that flag looks to me now nor 
what it means—but that is why I have come to live 
out the rest of my broken life in the Land of the 
Free! 

Lena. Dear, dear sister!—and now I must tell 
you good-bye. 

Gretchen. Lena, child—where are you going? 

Lena. To fulfill a promise I made in this room 
—a vow that must be kept. Don’t think hard of 
me, Gretchen—I’d like to stay and comfort you. 

Bergenfeld. That vow, Lena! Wait! Repeat 
it as you said it then. 

Lena. “ I do solemnly pledge my loyalty to the 
flag of my father, and if ever I am false to that 
pledge, I solemnly promise to destrov myself with 
my own hand.” 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 95 


Bergenfeld. Stay. You—need—not—go. 

Lena. Father, I made that vow as to my own 
soul. You yourself have told me that right or wrong, 
a vow must be kept. 

Bergenfeld. Your vow—it shall be kept. The 
flag of your mother*—that was the thing for which 
I asked your loyalty. They tortured little Rudolph 
^-they cut off his hands- 

Gretchen and Lena. ( Breathlessly ) Father! 

Bergenfeld. Germany that I have worshipped 
—I turn from you—I tear you from my heart! 
Henceforth for my children and me there is but one 
country—one flag: America and her stars and 
stripes I 


Curtain. 


ACT IV 

Time: Early the next morning. 

Scene* Red Cross Headquarters as in Act HI. 

Discovered: Alberta, Betty, Laura and Vivian 
grouped informally. They all wear sport 
clothes and at rise of curtain are seen to be 
devouring crullers with real school-girl ap¬ 
petites . 


(Confused chatter.) 

Omnes. (Confused chatter) “Never tasted 
anything so good as those crullers in my life.” 
“ After a five-mile walk, anything tastes good.” 
“Was it only five? I thought it was a hundred .’* 
(Continued ad lib) 



96 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Vivian. I’ll take another, Birdie. 

Alberta. (Exhibits empty bag) Nothing left. 

Vivian. Why, that bag was half full, Alberta! 
You don’t mean you’ve gone and devoured all those 
fattening crullers yourself? 

Alberta. There were only six left over, and a 
fat person requires more for her system than a 
thin one. 

Laura. And I had only one! Well, talk about 
nerve, Birdie, yours is certainly corpulent. 

Betty. I was just looking forward to a second 
one myself. 

Alberta. Then why didn’t you say so? You 
talked and talked, and didn’t seem to be enjoying 
them at all. I was the only one giving my attention 
solely to crullers. 

Bernice. (Walks in breezily at c.) Hello, girls! 

Betty. Welcome to our crullerless party! Birdie, 
give her a piece of the bag if you haven’t eaten it 
yourself by this time. 

Alberta. I think you’ve harped on that joke 
long enough. 

Bernice. Why, I never dreamed of your all 
getting in as early as this until Betty ’phoned me! 

Laura. We decided not to wait for the ten- 
two. Instead we got on the caboose of a milk- 
train and rode five miles. 

Alberta. And walked the other five. I’m nearly 
dead. 

Betty. Just for a lark we arose at four A. M. 

Alberta. With only one cup of coffee to sustain 
us. 

Vivian. And oh, the world was perfectly glori¬ 
ous so early in the morning. Dew on the grass, 
and the birds tuning up, and the air just so ravish- 
ingly heavenly I thought I’d expire! 

Laura. We had to wake up a grocery store to 
get crullers when we arrived, and coming out we 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 97 

ran into Blunderbuss. He got us this hot pitcher 
of coffee from his boarding-house and brought it 
over. (Indicates pitcher on table) Really, there 
is something quite likable about Blunderbuss. 

Bernice. Oh, indeed, do you think so? 

Laura. But we all wished you’d been there when 
he caught his foot in the rug and went sprawling. 
She’d have died laughing, wouldn’t she, girls? 

Bernice. ( Freezingly) Indeed? At what, 

may I ask? 

Betty. Why, at Blunderbuss sprawling on the 
floor! He was funnier than Walters and the pig. 

(Girls laugh) 

Bernice. ( Loftily) Well, it seems to me that 
when Mr. Buss was kind enough to put himself 
out and get the coffee for you, it is quite impolite, 
to say the least, to laugh at him. Anybody might 
catch his foot in a rug. 

Alberta. Why, Bernice, what on earth has 
struck you? You know very well that Buss’s big 
feet- 

Bernice. ( Interrupts) His feet are not a bit 
bigger than those of Christopher Columbus. I * 
compared them mentally as I came through the 
Park this morning. 

Vivian. But, Bernice, you’ve always made fun 
of his feet yourself! 

Bernice. Perhaps I did, in the very distant 
past. But everything seems different now that 
Stephen has enlisted. 

Laura. Buss enlisted as well as Frank Olcutt? 
There won’t be a soul left for dancing parties next 
winter! 

Vivian. But at least we can write to the dear 
boys. To keep up a regular correspondence with a 
hero in the trenches seems to me quite too romantic 
for words! 

Bernice. Of course you may write to Brother 



98 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Frank if you like, Vivian, but so long as Stephen 
Russ and I have become engaged- 

Omnes. Engaged? 

Bernice. Of course. That’s what I’ve been 
trying to make you understand ever since I came 
in. 

Betty. When did it happen, dear? 

Vivian. And for mercy sakes—how? On one 
knee or in a whisper ? 

Bernice. Girls, it’s marvellous to be engaged! 
I don’t know that I look much older since it hap¬ 
pened, but I’m no more the same girl I was yester¬ 
day when I started to drive that calico horse, than 
a two year old child is like—is like Methusaleh,— 
I’ve developed so. And let me tell you this. You 
may think you’re acquainted with a man, but you’ve 
no idea of his real character until you find yourself 
engaged to him. Why, Stephen Buss is simply 
noble, and his command of language—Well, last 
night he sounded exactly like some of President 
Wilson’s speeches. Of course we won’t be mar¬ 
ried until he comes back from over there, but then 
w^ll have a real war wedding! 

Vivian. Engaged! Girls, did you ever imagine 
anything so wonderful could happen to anyone right 
in our own class? 

Betty. One engagement makes more, they say. 

Laura. I shouldn’t be surprised if we all had 
chances before the year was out. 

Alberta. Maybe after the thin ones all step off, 
the fat ones will have a show. (Shakes a fezv re¬ 
maining crumbs from bag and eats them) 

Laura. I think we ought to give them an en¬ 
gagement party right this week. 

Alberta. So did I! I guess even Mr. Hoover 
couldn’t object to a few sweets for that! 

Bernice. Oh, girls, you make me so happy! 
Because an engagement is really a matter of great 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 99 


importance in a girl’s life and should be treated 
that way. I wonder what Lena will say when she 
hears it! 

Vivian. Oh, speaking of Lena just reminds us! 
Poor Michael is on one of those awful semi-annual 
sprees of his this morning, and what do you think 
he imagines? 

(Girls giggle appreciatively, remembering.) 

Bernice. I don’t know—what? 

Laura. Why, that burglars broke in here last 
night, and that Lena Bergenfeld was here, and that 
they would have kidnapped her and run off with 
the Red Cross supplies if he hadn’t chased them 
away. 

Bernice. What a perfectly ridiculous idea! 
And he was perfectly sober last night when Lena 
and the rest of us dropped in here. We’ll all have 
to work for no-license in this town just to save 
poor Michael from himself. . 

Laura. What does your brother say about your 
engagement, Bernice? 

Bernice. Hardly anything, so far. He and Papa 
were so mysterious at breakfast it was positively 
uncanny. Something went wrong at the factory last 
night I am sure, for they spoke about going to meet 
a secret service man who was coming on the train, 
and all that sort of thing. My poor little engage¬ 
ment got sandwiched in between and was hardly 
noticed! Oh! (As young Olcutt enters at c.) 
Why, here’s Frank now! (Chorus of greetings 
from girls) 

Olcutt. Good morning, everybody! This is 
some surprise! It’s so early, I thought I’d find the 
rooms practically deserted. 

Betty. We just took a freak to get up a day¬ 
break party from camp. 


too HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Laura. We had to be here for a meeting of the 
Red Cross this afternoon anyhow, and we walked 
all the way from Cross Roads Junction. 

Bernice. It seems to me you look even worse 
than you did at breakfast, Frank, and I just know 
you aren’t feeling well. 

Olcutt. Nonsense, I’m perfectly well. 

Vivian. I think there’s something awfully fas¬ 
cinating about looking pale! The only trouble is 
that when I’m pale, the color all rushes to my nose 
and spoils everything. 

Olcutt. Bernice, all these Red Cross workers 
must need some refreshment after their early morn¬ 
ing walk. Here —(Hands her some change) take 
them down to the ice-cream parlors. They’ve just 
opened. Peach Melbas all round. 

Bernice. You darling! 

Vivian. Peach Melbas? How esthetically salu¬ 
brious ! 

Alberta. They’re fattening, but I won’t spoil the 
party by backing out. 

Bernice. Please run on, girls, and I’ll catch 
up with you. I want to speak to Frank just a 
minute. 

(Betty, Alberta and Vivian exit c. and off l.) 

Laura. (Coqnettishly from doorway) I don’t 
see why Mr. Olcutt can’t come along, too! (Exits 

c. and after other girls) 

Bernice. (Very confidentially) If you want to 
let me know what the trouble at the factory was 
now, Frank, remember it will be perfectly safe. I’m 
not a child any longer. I’m an engaged woman. 

Olcutt. Run along, kid! Keep those girls out 
of the way as long as you can, that’s all. I’ve 
phoned Lena to meet me here and I want to talk 
with her undisturbed. 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES ioi 


Bernice. Oh, Frank! Can it be that the ex¬ 
ample of me and Buss-? 

Olcutt. Cut that, Sis. Nothing doing. 

Bernice. ( Still playfully suspicious ) Well, 
anyhow, I’d feed the girls two Melbas apiece before 
I let them get away. ( Enter Lena c.) Oh, hulloa, 
Lena! ( Gives her a quick hug) The girls are 
waiting for me so I can’t stay a minute! (Bernice 
exits c. and off l.) 

Lena. I hope I’ve not kept you waiting. I got 
away just as soon as I could. 

Olcutt. I thank you for coming. I—( Hesi¬ 
tates ) 

Lena. I hardly expected to see you again before 
you went to the training camp. And why did you 
wish to talk with me here rather than at my home ? 

Olcutt. I’ll explain that presently. The truth 
is, Lena, I—How can I say it? 

Lena. Say what? 

Olcutt. Yesterday I asked you to think of me as 
a friend, always a friend, but now- 

Lena. Well? 

Olcutt. Lena, something terrible has happened, 
and I must ask you to think of me as an enemy 
instead—a man who must do his duty as he sees 
it even if it means running rough-shod over the 
hearts of those he holds dearest in all the world. 

Lena. Something terrible has happened, you 
say? 

Olcutt. Yes. Last night there was an attempt 
made to blow up my father’s factory. The attempt 
would have succeeded if my father had not been 
warned just in time over the telephone: a voice he 
did not recognize. 

Lena. But what has that to do with me? You 
don’t suspect me of-? 

Olcutt. No, Lena, a thousand times, no! You 
had no knowledge of such a plot, of course. 





102 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Lena. Was any harm done to the factory ? 

Olcutt. Not a dollar’s worth, thank heaven! 
We stamped out the fuse and that ended it. 

Lena. But you said I must think of you as an 
enemy. Why ? 

Olcutt. Oh, I can’t meet your eyes when you 
look at me like that—as if I should shield rather 
than hurt you—but you must know this now if you 
haven’t known it before: your father is a traitor to 
the United States Government. 

Lena. No, no! He is not a traitor to the United 
States Government. Upon my word of honor you 
are mistaken. My father, whatever may have been 
his convictions in the past, is to-day as true and loyal 
as you yourself and will remain so. 

Olcutt. It is only natural that you should be¬ 
lieve in him, his own daughter. But I want to pre¬ 
pare you for what is coming. 

Lena. Oh, what do you mean by that? You— 
you frighten me! 

Olcutt. An hour from now your father will be 
in custody as an active alien enemy to the United 
States. 

Lena. Ah, no! 

Olcutt. Yes. 

Lena. Some one has accused him? 

Olcutt. The detectives. They had no clue to 
begin upon when they came, but naturally they 
thought of a German first of all and asked us if we 
had noticed anyone acting suspiciously. My father 
said “ no ”. I said —(Pauses chokingly ) 

Lena. Don’t tell me it was you! 

Olcutt. I had to put rny personal feelings 
out of it and remember only that I was a soldier. 
It wasn’t simply that a man had plotted to demolish 
my father’s property, it was that an enemy was' 
plotting against my government—-plotting to prolong 
the war. I thought of the war-weary people over 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 103 


there—of the brave French who were fighting and 
depending on our help—of the crimes of the sub¬ 
marine—— 

Lena. But my father—what did you tell them 
about him? 

Olcutt. I told them how four days ago as I 
came out of the factory late at night, I saw a man 
walking away from the building—a man that seemed 
anxious to avoid being seen by the watchman on 
his rounds, and that later when I trailed him from 
across the street and he passed under the glare 
of an arq-light—I saw it was your father. Lena, 
I had tried to put the matter out of my mind, had 
made a dozen excuses that it might have been just 
natural curiosity and all that—I did put it out of 
my mind—but when that happened last night it 
came back—his avoidance of the watchman, the 
lateness of the hour-- 

Lena. If you’re going to fight against my father, 
I can fight too. You have no real proof against 
him. 

Olcutt. They don’t wait for final proof in a 
'moment like this in war times They are arresting 
him on suspicion and will search for evidence after¬ 
wards. That’s why I wanted you away from the 
house when it happened—to break the shock of 
it a little, if I could. 

Lena. Then perhaps, even now, they are taking 
him away with them? 

Olcutt. I’m bitterly sorry for you, Lena. 

Lena. Sorry? Then why couldn’t you have 
waited a few short hours? Why couldn’t you have 
given me that much warning of what was to come? 
It would have given me time to think what I might 
do to defend him, and made it easier for my poor 
sister! 

Olcutt. Your sister? 

Lena. Yes, my sister who lived in Alsace-Lor- 




io 4 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

raine. She has come to us from across the sea— 
broken hearted, almost insane. Oh, if you could 
only see and talk with her! Can’t you persuade 
them to put off taking him until to-morrow ? You’ll 
do that much for me, Frank, won’t you? Father 
has been all for Germany in the past, I’ll admit, 
but that’s over now. He’s changed. In future, 
he’s eager to work only for America. 

Olcutt. (With sad unbelief) And when did 
this wonderful change in him take place? 

Lena. Last night. 

Olcutt. I thought so. After the plan failed— 
a good time to repent. 

Lena. It was my sister’s story that changed 
him. She has suffered the loss of husband and 
child through German cruelty and fought for escape 
that she might come here and tell him the truth. 
Oh, but I see that you don’t believe in his repen¬ 
tance ! 

Olcutt. ( Gently ) I believe that you believe 
in it, Lena. 

Lena. My poor father! How can we ever ex¬ 
plain? Who will believe us or understand? Oh, 
why can’t you at least give him a chance to prove 
that he is different ? 

Olcutt. Because if a man tries to wreck a 
munitions plant and fails, he tries again. And if 
he once succeeds, it encourages him to repeat the 
experiment. He can’t be regarded as an individual, 
but as a dangerous force working against the Com¬ 
monwealth. I know you must hate me for this, 
but that was what I schooled myself to expect. 

Lena. No, I don’t hate you. Instead, I care 
for you very, very much. 

Olcutt. ( Amazed ) Lena! 

Lena. Like my father, I have come from under 
the shadow of deceit. I deceived you yesterday 
when I let you think I had turned to some one 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 105 


else instead of you. I couldn’t let you know the 
truth while I still felt my Father was German 
at heart, but now—I want you to know that all 
the time it was you I cared for—only you. There 
need be no barrier between us now, unless—Un¬ 
less— ( Looks at him appealingly) 

Olcutt. Unless I refuse to interfere in behalf of 
your father. That’s it, isn’t it? 

Lena. Yes, that’s it. 

Olcutt. ( With deep emotion) I see now that 
a soldier’s duty may mean something more than 
facing the enemy on the battlefield with the shells 
bursting thick about you. It means doing your 
best for your country even if you’re called on to take 
your happiness by the throat and strangle it! A 
fellow’s just got to take the right path at any cost. 

Lena. But how can you be sure which path is 
right and which it wrong? 

Olcutt. A chap’s just got to plug along by guess 
in that case, and that’s what I propose to do. 

Lena. So—knowing that this will come between 
us forever—you refuse to intercede for my father? 

Olcutt. Yes, Lena. That’s what my soldier’s 
duty seems to mean. ( The ’phone rings. Olcutt 
springs to anszver it) Yes, Olcutt, Jr., at the ’phone. 
What’s that? When? Thank you. Yes. ( Hangs 
up receiver. Addresses Lena) After all, it is 
taken out of my hands or yours. I needn’t have 
made my choice—it’s decided without me. 

Lena. Who spoke to you? What—did they 
say? 

Olcutt. That the secret service men have 
searched the rooms above your father’s jewelry 
store and found he had been making bombs and hid¬ 
ing them there. They are now on their way to 
his home. 

Lena. Before he could destroy the evidence 
of his guilt! Well, let me tell you now that if you 


106 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


had allowed him to go free, he would have been 
such a help to America; that what I did in ’phoning 
you that warning last night dwindles into nothing 
beside it! 

Olcutt. Lena! It was your voice that reached 
my father—you, who saved his life and mine? I 
never dreamed it was you! 

Lena. If you had—what then? 

Olcutt. I hope I’d still have been soldier enough 
to do my duty just the same. (Lena starts away) 
Where are you going? 

Lena. To my father—to walk with him a pris¬ 
oner through the streets. He shall not suffer alone. 

Olcutt. No, Lena, I can’t stand that! 

Lena. You have done your soldier’s duty as 
you saw T it— I shall do a daughter’s duty as I see 
it. 

Olcutt. Let me go with you—help you ‘some 
way. 

Lena. No, henceforth I shall walk alone! ( Ex¬ 

its c. and off l.) 

Olcutt. “ Alone! ” Lena! ( Paces the floor, 
agitated over her plight) 

(Buss makes characteristic entrance from c., stumb¬ 
ling over something and nearly falling.) 

Buss. Hello, Olcutt! 

Olcutt. ( Has dropped into a chair—answers 

dejectedly) Hello, Buss! 

Buss. You seem sort of grouchy! Hope you are 
not put out because I got engaged to your sister. 

Olcutt. Why, no! I—I had forgotten it for a 
minute, that’s all. Glad of it, old chap! Of course 
Bernice is a good deal of a kid! 

Buss. Not when you come to know her. Very 
mature for her age. We both are. Of course I 
didn’t intend to bind her to any promise until after 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 107 

I got back from the war; but when a thing like that 
gets hold of you it sort of carries you away. By 
the way, Lena rushed past me just now and it set 
me to thinking that maybe you and she had come 
to an understanding, too. 

Olcutt. Well, we haven’t, and never will. Drop 
it. 

Buss. Can’t say that you act especially social 
to-day. 

Olcutt. Don’t feel so. Things haven’t gone 
well with me. 

Buss. Sorry. Is there anything I can do? 

Olcutt. No, perhaps what has happened is no 
worse than a soldier ought to expect. The whole 
world has changed for me in the last twenty-four 
hours, and I suppose from now on it’s going to 
change still more. (Moodily looks from window) 

Buss. I say, Olcutt, what are you thinking of? 

Olcutt. I was thinking what that old army offi¬ 
cer must have meant when he said: “ A million 

boys are going over to fight for their country 
next year, and not one of them will ever come 
back.” 

Buss. Stuff! The Germans can’t get us all. 

Olcutt. He didn’t mean that. When any of the 
boys come back, they’ll come back men, their boy¬ 
hood left behind them—lost somewhere on the grim 
battlefield. You see, you can’t be whole-heartedly 
loyal to your country, you can’t give up all your 
personal hopes and desires for the sake of Old 
Glory there, and keep on being a boy. I’ve had a 
taste of what loyalty means an # d the sacrifices it 
demands already, and I know. You’ll find out in 
time, too, Buss. Every soldier must. 

Bernice. (Rushes in at c.) Oh, Frank! Frank! 
Mr. Bergenfeld—a mob tried to get at him, but 
Lena helped him away while a policeman he!d 
them back! 


log HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

Buss. A mob? Great Scott! Where? ( Rushes 
off at c.) 

Bernice. (To Olcutt) Mr. Bergenfeld must 
have killed somebody, or done something awful 
from the way they acted—they hooted at him, 
threw sticks and stones- 

Olcutt. Where did Lena go? Where can I 
find them? 

Bernice. They’re here—got in through the 
driveway. Lena was helping him up the stairs 
and-- 

(Lena and Bergenfeld appear just outside of c. 
Bergenfeld looks as if he had been roughly 
handled. His forehead is cut and bleeding.) 

Olcutt. Lena, are you hurt? ( Springs to her 
side) 

Lena. It doesn’t matter about me, but my father 
—they stoned him as if he had been a dog! 

Olcutt. Here, Mr. Bergenfeld, take this chair! 
(Helps Bergenfeld into a chair) 

Bernice. (At supply table) Here, what’s all 
this stuff for if it isn’t to be used in emergencies? 
(Gets cotton and bandages and assists Lena to 
care for Bergenfeld. Lena bandages his head 
skillfully, showing effects of her training) 

Lena. That cut on your poor forehead! 

Bergenfeld. (To Bernice) I thank you. (To 
Lena) Distress not yourself, my daughter. The 
undeserved stones which America throws at me to¬ 
day wound me less than the memory of the unde¬ 
served kindness shown to me before. 

Lena. It was cowardly, cruel, to treat you so! 

Bernice. Why did they do it? Why were they 
so angry, Mr. Bergenfeld? 

Bergenfeld. They did not like the news about 
some strange articles found in the little room above 




HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 109 


my jewelry store—large jewels—some call them 
bombs. 

Bernice. Bombs ? 

Lena. (To Bernice) But he wasn’t trying to 
escape. He had simply asked that he be allowed 
to walk to the court-house as a free man. An offi¬ 
cer was beside us in plain clothes, when suddenly 
a crowd began to gather. They seemed to come 
from everywhere, all at once! Oh, if they should 
follow us here! (Puts arm about Bergenfeld j s 
shoulder protectingly) 

(Buss enters at c. in time to hear her last words.) 

Buss. There’s no more danger, Lena. The 
crowd is scattering. The secret service man is be¬ 
low and we’ve sent for another policeman and a 
closed carriage. 

Bernice. Oh, Blunderbuss, you’re always such 
a tower of strength! 

Olcutt. I want you to know, Mr Bergenfeld, 
that I never thought of your being subjected to such 
humiliation as this! I can’t understand how a mob 
could have gathered. No one knew, outside my 
father and the government men, what had hap¬ 
pened. 

Bergenfeld. My arrest is a great pity. 

Olcutt. Of course I can understand your feel¬ 
ing that way. 

Bergenfeld. Personal feeling, bah! That is 
nothing. I am thinking of America, and of the 
great service I wished to render her. Throughout 
this country I would have treveled, myself and my 
daughter Gretchen from Alsace-Lorraine, to tell 
a story of Prussian cruelty, of my little grandson 
massacred by the barbarians who lead Germany 
blindfolded to her destruction! I would awake all 
Germans who make America their home as I was 


no HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

last night awakened, to rise against those madmen \ 
I —(His strength fails him and he clutches at his 
heart) 

Lena. Father! 

Bergenfeld. ( Recovering ) A little dizziness— 
it has passed. 

Buss. I exchanged a few words with the secret 
service man, Mr. Bergenfeld, and he says if you 
reveal the workings of the German spy system, 
and give the names of your accomplices, the govern¬ 
ment might take that into account in sentencing you. 

Bergenfeld. I reveal nothing. I accuse no one 
but myself. I make no appeal for mercy. Last 
night I renounced my allegiance to the German 
cause—already I have sent them word of it—and 
what I learn henceforth is mine to use against them 
—before that, no! That would make loyalty itself 
disloyal. 

Buss. Well, your friends would like to lessen 
your troubles if they could, you know. 

Lena. He does not consider himself, and I am 
proud of him. 

Buss. But his duty to America—if there was 
anybody else in on this- 

Bergenfeld. It may be I make a mistake—I 
do not know. Duty is not always a plain marked 
path. I have to choose with what wisdom I can. 

Olcutt. (With emotion) Who could under¬ 
stand that better than I? 

Bernice. Oh, Mr. Bergenfeld, I can’t make it all 
out, nor why this awful thing has happened to you 
and Lena, but I can’t look into your eyes and hear 
your voice now without realizing you’re just as sin¬ 
cere and patriotic as the rest of us. That’s just 
the way I feel. 

Buss. Same here, Mr. Bergenfeld. (Lena looks 
appealingly at Olcutt, but he turns away) 

Lena. (To Buss and Bernice) I thank you 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES iii 


both. Just that someone, anyone, believes in him, 
means so much to me. 

Olcutt. (Looks from window) There’s a 
carriage turned in at the driveway—I suppose it’s 
for you, Mr. Bergenfeld. 

Lena. (As Bergenfeld gets to his feet) They’ll 
take you away from me—they’ll put you in a cell 
—away from the sunlight and the singing birds; yet 
you are now heart and soul for America! (Clings 
to him) I can’t bear for you to be punished—I 
can’t! 

Bergenfeld. Hush, my daughter, it is for the 
best. Whatever happens, it is for the best. Go 
down now to the door and tell them that I will 
come. I have a word to say to this young man 
alone. (Looks at Olcutt. As Lena turns away 
from her father, Bernice throws her arms about 
her) 

Bernice. Buss and I will go down with you. 
We want the whole world to know that whatever 
happens, we’re your friends forever. (Buss and 
Bfrnice exits with Lena at c and off l.) 

Bergenfeld. Before I go I would shake hands 
with you. 

Olcutt. (Gives him his hand) Mr. Bergen¬ 
feld, I hope you understand that I couldn’t con¬ 
sider Lena, in what I did. I couldn’t consider any¬ 
thing but doing my duty as I saw it. 

Bergenfeld. That is why I would take your 
hand. Women, the weaker sex, they reason from 
heart, but we men—we know! A loyal soldier 
could not do other than you have done. Some 
day, my daughter will see it. When that day comes, 
after I am sent far away- 

Olcutt. You think you’ll be sent out of the 
country ? 

Bergenfeld. Out of the country—far away—- 
where no railroads bring a man back again. 



112 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 


Olcutt. You don’t mean-? 

Bergenfeld. A spy who set out to destroy Am¬ 
erica’s weapons of war? Why should your coun¬ 
try be faint-hearted in dealing with these matters? 
When that time comes, and Lena is left alone— 
you will take care of her, my son? 

Olcutt. I will. Before God, I will! 

(A policeman appears at c.) 

Bergenfeld. You have come for me? It is well. 
(Bergenfeld walks out at c. and policeman follows 
him off l.) 

(Olcutt sits by table, buries his head in his hands. 

Walters enters stealthily at c. from R.) 

Walters. Olcutt! I say! Are you asleep ? 
Rouse up and tell me what’s happened to old Berg¬ 
enfeld? 

Olcutt. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t feel like 
talking, Walters. You’ll find out everything in 
good time. It will all be in the papers. 

Walters. My God! I can’t believe he’s been 
arrested. 

Olcutt. If you know already what’s happened, 
why did you start in questioning me? 

Walters. Because I just got in from camp, and 
it’s a shock to me. Lena and I have been pretty 
friendly, you know, and—it’s being her father and 
a man living right here in this town—I thought you 
might know the details, that’s all. Wh—what did 
Bergenfeld do? (Takes ivory paper-knife from 
table and begins fooling with it) 

Olcutt. I don’t care to be put on the witness 
stand, Walters. 

Walters. You might be decently polite, but you 
needn’t if you don’t want to. I’m a good guesser. 



HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 113 


BergenfelcTs a German, and he’s been cutting some 
monkey shines that displeases the United States 
government. Hes got himself in trouble over it; 
I’ll bet my hat he has! 

Olcutt. {Moodily) Well, this time your hat is 
safe. 

Walters. So that was an officer walking beside 
him as he left his house—I thought so! They’re 
a tricky lot, those Germans. I suppose now he’s 
arrested they’ll question him and—and—perhaps 
induce him to save his own skin by throwing the 
blame on some one else? 

Olcutt. They’ll not succeed in that. 

Walters. Why not? 

Olcutt. Because he’s been put to the test al¬ 
ready. {The paper-knife snaps in Walters’ hand 
and this attracts Olcutt’s attention to him) What’s 
the matter? Got a chill? 

Walters. I—I’m indignant, that’s all. The old 
scoundrel! I tell you, Olcutt, this government is 
too easy-going, too lenient with traitors. We should 
all band together and crush them out of existence. 
How many years do you think he’ll get? 

Olcutt. {Quietly alert) How many do you 
think ? 

Walters. Well, when a man takes to fooling 
round with bombs- 

Olcutt. {Interrupts sharply) Who told you- 
anything about bombs? The secret service men 
kept their own counsel as to that. 

Walters. {With a sickly smile) Why, you told 
me yourself—just now. 

Olcutt. That’s a lie. Somhow I began to sus¬ 
pect you the minute you started to lambast Bergen- 
feld. 

Walters. Suspect me of what? 

Olcutt. Perhaps of having been that extra 
workman whose presence in Dad’s factory last 



114 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

night became known through a forged card he left 
behind him; and also through the bomb he left 
there for good measure. Yes, now Pm convinced 
of it. 

Walters. Take that back! Take that back, or 
by God Pll— (Puts hand to hip pocket, but Olcutt 
rovers him first) 

Olcutt. None of that! Lay your gun on that 
Jable. (Walters obeys) Hands up! (Walters 
throws ub hands and Olcutt takes gun from 
table) Thanks. Mine was a flashlight. (Walters 
with a mumbled curse starts toward him again) 
Stop! (Buss steps inside door c. and looks from 
one to the other) 

Walters. You can’t prove anything on me. 

Olcutt. If you had played as square a game 
with Bergenfeld as he did with you, you wouldn’t 
have given yourself away. 

Walters. I haven’t given myself away. If 
fou attempt to accuse me of being in on any schemes 
oi Bergenfeld and his kind I’ll sue you for dam¬ 
ages. You can’t blackmail me. I’m an innocent 
man who has always stood well in this community. 
You can’t prove I ever had anythnig to do with 
Bergenfeld, or knew anything about him and his Ger¬ 
man plots. 

Buss. May I butt in here for just a minute? 
• Olcutt. Go ahead. 

Buss. (To Walters) If you didn’t know any¬ 
thing about Bergenfeld, as you say, how is that you 
were able to tell that mob so much about him 
and egg them on until they jumped on him? I’ve 
just found out you were the fellow that did it. 

Olcutt. We’ll escort him down to the police 
station, Buss, and let him answer a few questions 
there. But first, just for curiosity, you might go 
through him. 

Walters. Search me, and welcome. 


HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 115 

Olcutt. Hm! You’re a bit too willing, but 
we’ll go on with it. 

Buss. Nothing but this. ( Hands out two or three 
torn envelopes) 

Olcutt. {Looks at them and is about to throw 
them aside when something attracts his attention) 
What’s on the back of this one ? Penmanship prac¬ 
tice, eh ? “ Ivan Sazlavsky ” ! I recognize the 

name ! (Walters, startled, gives a frightened gasp 
and tries to snatch the envelope from Olcutt’s 
hand) Trying to disguise your handwriting, eh, 
before you wrote on the pass-card? Here is the 
pass-card—a forged one— {Produces it) I have it 
with me, luckily—and Ivan Sazlavsky is the name. 
I think we have your number, Walters. 

(Lena enters at c.) 

Lena. {To Olcutt) I’ve brought you a mess¬ 
age from your father—he met us at the court-house. 
{Produces a letter) 

Walters. {Cuts in frantically) For God’s 
sake, say a word for me, Lena! Your father made 
me his dupe—tempted me with money and big prom¬ 
ises. I didn’t mean to go so far. I didn’t know any 
lives were at stake—you know that—tell them so— 
won’t you? 

Buss. A little more form, Walters. Shoulders 
up! Don’t sag! Olcutt, let a newly enlisted pri¬ 
vate have the pleasure of escorting this imitation 
officer to headquarters, will you? I’m aching for 
the job. 

Olcutt. Take him along, Buss, and be quick 
about it. 

Buss. {Taking pistol Olcutt hands him) 
March! {Exits, Walters going unwillingly ahead 
of him out at c.) 

Olcutt. The message, Lena? {She hands him 


ii6 HONOR OF THE STARS AND STRIPES 

a letter zvith a second one enclosed) A note from 
father and—what is this ? 

Lena. A letter written by my father to the 
German Government—my sister found it on his 
desk after they took him away. 

Olcutt. (As he reads note) And she went to 
Dad herself and took him that letter? 

Lena. Yes. 

Olcutt. ( After a pause—still reading) Why, 
Lena, this is wonderful! Dad says he considers that 
letter proof positive of your father’s change of 
heart, and will go to Washington himself to in¬ 
tercede for him. That may mean— must mean—a 
short sentence, perhaps a pardon. 

Lena. Sister said she knew it must all come 
right. 

Olcutt. It will all come right—and after your 
father is free, may I ask again to be friends? 

Lena. Perhaps—after father is free. 

Olcutt. I’m leaving for camp to-morrow. * It’s 
no time to think of our own happiness, I know, but 
I’ll soon be somewhere in France and—well, I be¬ 
lieve many a soldier would fight better if he knew 
that back there a sweetheart was waiting who had 
faith in him. 

Lena. That’s our part—to wait for our soldier 
sweethearts and have faith in them. 

Olcutt. The faith of the women we leave be¬ 
hind ! Hold on to that faith, Lena. That’s what’s 
going to help every boy in khaki to do his bit. 
Lena! 


Curtain. 





